Winds of Change
by Berry's Ambitions
Summary: [Rewrite of the second film] Meet Stump, a free-spirited army enlistee on her final day of training. When her squad is given a mission to deliver equipment to a base camp known as Sector 16, she's far from worried. What Stump hadn't counted on was the hill-dwelling people who happened to live there. [Letch/girl!Stump, Chameleon/Missy]
1. Prologue

_**Winds of Change**_

_**By Berry's Ambitions**_

_**Prologue**_

**A/N: At long last, another multi-chaptered fic. It's mostly just a summer project to amuse myself, but I'm obviously gonna try putting some effort into it. This story was born from an unused concept from the second movie - originally, Private Stump Locke was, in fact, a girl! Naturally, I wondered, 'If Stump _remained_ a girl, how would things have played out?' So there you go. In all honesty, I'm still planning out ideas as I go along (this is not something I often do, for the record) and am totally open to suggestions. It sticks very close to canon in the beginning, but I assure you that this story will stray far from it. This chapter is rather short and actually doesn't involve our leading lady, but I thought it was important to get it out there. I know that a lot of people, myself included, were dissatisfied with things that occured in the movie, and I'll do my best to improve it (particularly the mistakes they made regarding the army).**

**I swear, it'll get better! Just give a shot and let me know what you think!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not _The Hills Have Eyes_.**

**WARNING: Coarse language.**

* * *

He stared off into the distance.

Anyone else would've been awestruck by the lovely sunrise.

Letch found he couldn't care one way or another. To him, the sun was the sun. A huge ball of fire; nothing more, nothing less.

He scowled, turning away. He hadn't come to the surface to admire the supposedly-pretty sky. Letch wasn't like that. He didn't stand around and gawk at things the way Hansel did.

He was here because he was restless.

The hunt had been fun - it always was - but far too short for his liking. He'd wanted to end that hardass-colonel once and for all, but no. Hades wanted to draw it out, the way he always did.

Which resulted in intense boredom on Letch's behalf.

He sighed exasperatedly, kicking a pebble.

"Something the matter?"

Letch didn't even bother looking behind him. "Fuck off, Chameleon."

His insult was ignored, as always. "You seem restless."

"Don't talk like that."

"Talk like what?"

"You know damn well what I mean." If there was one thing that irritated Letch, it was Chameleon's inflated vocabulary.

There was a pause. Letch glanced over his shoulder, only to make sure his brother was still there and nothing else. To his dismay, the other cave dweller was leaning against the wall, staring at him intently. _Great. _"The hell you want?"

"Some fresh air." Chameleon's tone was cool. Indifferent. "And I don't plan on leaving until you tell me why_ you're_ here."

Letch snorted and turned around again. A long period of silence passed, and then:

"I just need some action, alright? Some _real_ action. I'm sick of the same old shit every time." It was a rare feat, Letch opening up like this. If Chameleon expected him to make a habit of it then he had another thing coming.

Another pause, although this one was much shorter. Had he caught Chameleon off-guard? That was a pleasing concept. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

Letch gave him a meaningful look, and then it clicked. "Girls," Chameleon murmured. He made a face then, one of scorn. "Good luck with _that._ Even if there are girls, it's not like Hades is gonna share."

"He only needs _one."_ Letch glared into the distance. "Besides, it ain't only about girls."

Chameleon took a few steps closer. "Then what is _it_ about?"

Letch crossed his arms, avoiding his brother's questioning eyes as he did.

For once, he wished he had an answer.

"If it matters..." Chameleon's voice wasn't quite gentle, exactly, but it had lost that annoying smugness from earlier. "The hunt isn't quite over yet."

This caught Letch's attention.

"You do realize that people will come looking for these scientists, don't you?"

No. He actually hadn't considered that.

"And then there's the colonel to consider," Chameleon went on. "He's important. People will notice he's missing, and they'll come looking for him too."

Letch nodded slowly.

"This might be not exactly what you wanted, but it'll at least keep us all occupied for a while." Chameleon sounded matter-of-fact. "If I were you, I'd start preparing."

The older mutant disappeared back into the mines.

Letch stared after him for a few heartbeats longer before gazing at the sky again.

Suddenly, it seemed as if dawn had never been brighter.

* * *

**A/N: I doubt this will get much attention, as these characters are pretty much ignored, but either way I'd love you guys to share your thoughts on this.**

**And for the record: _Civil_ is far from dead, but it is on the backburner for the time being. Give it time. You have my word that I have not abandoned the_ Abducted_ saga. I've been going through a bit of stress and am using this story as a way to escape.**


	2. It's a Woman's World

_**Winds of Change**_

_**By Berry's Ambitions**_

_**Chapter 1: It's a Woman's World**_

**A/N: Okay, here it is! The official first chapter. I won't lie - it follows the movie almost exactly. But, like I said, this is the way things are going to be set up for a while. I assure you, the events of this story will stray far from canon.**

**As for Stump, I'm going to try to keep her personality the way it was in the canon as well. Just because Stump's a girl here doesn't mean she's not Stump anymore, know what I mean? But I assure you that there will be development for everyone (mutants included), much more than what we saw in the film. And, like I said, I'll try to make the military seem more realistic if I can. I'm not expert or anything, but even I know that Wes Craven and co. fudged up some stuff. If you have anything that can help me regarding the army, then please let me know.**

**The only other significant thing I changed about Stump other than her orignal gender was her age. She's going to be quite a bit younger here than what Stump was in the canon. Hope that doesn't bother anybody. As for the actress I picked to represent our Stump, it's Kat Dennings. Feel free to either google her or check my profile for picture link(s).**

**I apologize for the rambling. On with the story!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not _The Hills Have Eyes_.**

**WARNING: Coarse language and crude humour.**

* * *

Sergeant Millstone was not happy with us.

"A stunning display," he began, "of individual and group stupidity."

Recalling the disastrous battle simulation, I couldn't help but agree with him.

"Seventeen civilians killed, and yourselves." He paused from his pacing to stare us down. "I'm in fucking awe."

I think we all were. I mean, it wasn't every day you encountered crazy bitches with bombs strapped to their chests.

Sarge approached Spitter first. "Cole! _Never_ leave cover to retrieve your helmet! You won't have a head to put it on anyway!"

Amber went next. "Johnson, do _not_ drop your weapon to protect your ears." His voice was deadly calm. "You are better off deaf than dead."

I glanced over at her as he walked away. Although her expression was stoic, I could see the embarrassment reflecting in her pretty blue eyes. Ouch. That was harsh.

"Medina!" Sarge was addressing Crank, who stood next to me, now. "Since you are not Rambo-resurrected, do not charge while your head is securely up your ass. That's how innocent people get killed." Sarge had a point, but I had to admit the whole Rambo-resurrected joke had me holding back snickers.

I prepared myself, convinced he would critique me next, but instead he turned to glare at someone else. "And you, _Napoleon."_ _Finally,_ I thought. _The source of the whole problem._

"It's Napoli, Sarge." He sounded tired. Served him right for getting us all blown to bits.

"You're quite the killer, aren't you, _Napoleon?" _Sarge had blatantly ignored the correction. "Almost got your whole squad blown to hell in six seconds. Now that's an impressive body count for somebody who's against the war."

I swore I misheard the last part. "What?"

"Oh yeah!" Sarge had gone back to pacing. "Your brother didn't tell you?"

Ugh. The last thing I needed was another brother. I stared at Napoleon, feeling a mixture of disgust and disbelief. Was I really hearing things right? Did he really fuck it all up for the rest of his over_ nothing?_

"Pretty-mouth here got himself a bumper sticker!" Sarge faced us directly now. "It says, 'con_ver_sation, not con_fron_tation'!"

Crank too was shooting daggers at Napoleon. "What's up with that shit?"

Sarge was up in Napoleon's face again. "You against the war, Doonsebury?"

Despite the fact pretty much everyone here was pissed at him, Napoleon remained level. "Not all wars, Sarge, I just think the president lies too mu-"

"All presidents lie, asshole!" Sarge snapped. "That's their fucking job."

"Yes sergeant."

"No president has told the truth since Truman. And do you know what he said?"

"No, Sarge."

"He said, that the buck stops_ here!"_

Napoleon flinched on the last word.

Sarge went back to his original rant. "Now you have all failed combat, and therefore, officially dead. Congratu-fucking-lations." He clapped sarcastically. I hoped the shame didn't show on my face, but, knowing my pale skin, it probably did. "Fall in at that deuce and a half with all your gear." He pointed over to where he was referring to. "We will deploy to the Agave Ridge rifle range. There you can complete your failure of these exercises by blowin' each other's dead heads off! And, on our way, we're stopping at Sector 16 to deliver equipment to scientists who are working there. This is a top secret area, so do not wander off or talk to anybody. Now get your sorry rookie butts in the back of that truck, _now!"_ The sentence was punctuated by the screech of his whistle. Without missing a beat we began walking single-file towards our destination.

"Let's go! Let's go!" Sarge shouted. "Let's go, Spitter! If I had some steak on a string you'd move real fast!"

Touch_é._

* * *

I adjusted my headband and gazed at the bumpy scenario before us. When I say it was hot, I mean _it was really fucking hot. _The army uniform really didn't help any, but taking it off was a definite no-no. I'd lived in New Mexico since graduation and had never bothered to visit the desert. Well, at least now I knew what I was missing... or rather, wasn't missing.

I decided that moping around probably wouldn't be the best way to pass the time, so around that point I tuned in to the conversation going on around me.

"Maybe we should thank Napoleon," Mickey was saying. "If we're all officially dead like Sarge said, I won't be tried for war crimes. The killing of innocent mannequins is serious shit."

We all laughed at that one, save Missy. That didn't faze me too much, considering the fact I've never even seen that girl crack a smile.

"Where I come from-" Crank was referring to Mexico, obviously. "-it's never good to be dead."

"Aw, Crank." Mickey grinned good-naturedly. "You're takin' all the fun outta the afterlife."

"Shove the afterlife up your ass," Crank retorted. This earned even more laughter.

"That's cold, man," I giggled, glancing over at Missy again. Now she seemed annoyed. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

Then, on her wrist, I caught a flash out something interesting - and familiar. I reached over to touch it, much to her obvious displeasure. I read the name on the tattoo aloud. "Clyde, huh?" I rolled up my sleeve and held my forearm up to show her my own. "Made the same mistake when I was a kid. So is Clyde still your dude?"

Missy gave me a scornful look. "Uh, yeah Stump, Clyde's still my _dude."_

Amber chuckled, and Mickey leaned over to me, smirking. "Stump? That's her son. He's like four years old."

It took me a moment to process that. Missy couldn't have been much older than I was. Clearly, this child of hers was not a planned one. I guess that could explain the stick up Missy's ass. "That is so fucked up..."

Mickey laughed once more, and Missy turned to glower at me, her brown eyes flashing. "You know one good thing about being dead? Not having to listen to all your _bullshit!"_

I cooed at her mockingly, but she didn't acknowledge any of us again. Clearly, a nerve had been hit. Now _that_ was a first. But still, I was kind of reeling over what I'd just found out. Missy? A mother? I bet a piranha had better maternal instincts than she did. Poor Clyde.

"That's all there is out here." Delmar spoke up for the first time. "Just a bunch of bullshit."

"This bullshit's got a crazy past," Napoleon said. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him. "You guys know they used to use this as a test ground for A-bombs?"

_"You guys know they used to use this a test ground for A-bombs?" _Crank sneered. "Who the fuck asked you, peace-ass shit boy?" Obviously he still hadn't gotten over what Napoleon's little revelation back in Kandahar. But, to be honest, I wasn't too keen on Napoleon tagging along myself. If he was just gonna whine and bitch, what was the point? If he was a pacifist, then why did he bother joining the army in the first place?

"Oh, right. I'm sorry. I forgot I was dealing with Rambo-resurrected."

Hmm. Maybe peace-ass shit boy had a backbone after all.

"Rambo-resurrect my balls, bitch."

Mickey and I cracked up. So maybe Napoleon _was_ good for something - bugging Crank and providing amusement for the rest of us.

"You with the _pinche puta!"_ Crank added jeeringly. Now, I have no idea what I said, but, knowing Crank, it was probably R-rated.

Napoleon's retort was also in Spanish, so I didn't quite catch it. But, judging by the fact Crank lost his shit and lunged at the guy, preparing to throw him off the truck, I assume it was pretty bad.

I almost jumped to my feet, ready to intervene. Just because I got a kick of their squabbling didn't mean I wanted Napoleon to wind up with a black eye - or worse.

Amber joined me. "Come on, Crank!" The anxiety apparent on her face.

Our protests went unnoticed. "You want to die young, huh, _cabrón?"_ Crank hissed. Napoleon was literally teetering off the edge. It was official; things had gone too far.

"You guys, stop!" Amber cried.

Again, she was ignored. "I'm gonna kill you right now!" Crank snarled over our protests.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Crank!" I yelled, seriously wondering if having to pry him away was necessary... or worth the risk.

In the nick of time, Delmar shoved Crank away before grabbing him. I watched, wide-eyed. Delmar never got like that. Never. He was supposed to be the calm one, the rock. I admired him for that. But that look in his eyes, that intensity... I have to admit it scared me a little.

"I killed somebody once." The deadly calm of his voice was unnerving. "It was easy. That's what makes it so dangerous."

I exhaled simultaneously as he released Crank. I hadn't even noticed that I was holding my breath...

Crank took his seat, scowling. "I don't fucking like that guy," he grumbled, without a doubt referring to Napoleon.

"Well, I don't like bein' out here havin' to put up with you!" Delmar snapped. "But I deal with it! So _deal _with it!" He helped Napoleon up.

"Thanks." For someone Crank practically mauled, he was doing okay for himself.

Delmar, praise the Lord, seemed to have returned to normal. "Don't mind Crank. He's just a cranky motherfucker."

Crank made a face.

Looking around, I could see we were arriving. The area was mountainous, and I could hear a bird cawing in the background. It was pretty easy to pick out, considering the fact it was totally silent otherwise.

After what felt like an eternity, we arrived at camp. There was a truck there, and tents, but no scientists.

Climbing out of our vehicle, I remarked to Mickey, "They're so top secret they're invisible, huh?"

"Got that right." But somehow I had a feeling he was as weirded out as I was.

Sarge was too, apparently. "Hello!"

His echo was the only response.

I wandered around, trying to put the pieces together. The whole area was completely barren. I couldn't blame those scientists if they wound up ditching at the last minute. This place was a dead zone. _What's so top secret about it anyway?_ I wondered. _Nothing out here but dirt and rocks. What's there to study?_

Could they have left before us? No, that didn't make sense either. All their stuff was here. I listened to Spitter attempt to radio base, but I doubted he was having any more luck that I was.

If this was what the rest of my military career was gonna be like, then I wasn't sure if I was so excited anymore.

Still... anything was better than going back to my family.

When it became apparent that I wasn't going to find shit, I gave up and returned to the others. They were gathered around a tent, chattering.

"No gas, sergeant, but I found this," Mickey announced. I saw him hand something to Sarge. "Satellite phone. Must've been how they contacted base."

Leaning closer, I felt my eyes widen. The thing was _ripped open,_ with wires sticking out in every direction. "I don't think it's working," Mickey confessed. That made me smile. If there was one thing that drew me to Mickey Elrod, it was the sense of humour we shared.

Crank was just returning when he noticed the phone. "Man, somebody's got a temper."

...Said the guy who'd threatened the life of his teammate not fifteen or so minutes ago.

"Mine's all buttoned up, Sarge." Crank must've been referring to the place he'd been sent to investigate. "Nobody's home."

The sound of static filled the air. "Who's radio's that?"

"Must be one of theirs." Was I imagining things, or did Sarge sound suspicious? Nevertheless, we continued to listen.

_"Wilson? You there?"_

We followed the noise to the scientists' truck. Sarge grabbed hold of the radio with Missy in pursuit, most likely to offer help if she could. Sarge spoke into the radio. "Hello?"

A pause. _"Who the fuck is this?"_

I could've thought of a thousand comebacks for that one, but even I knew that now wasn't the time. Still... what a dick.

"This is Sergeant Jeffrey Millstone of the New Mexico National Guard." Sarge remained professional. "Who is this, and what's your position?"

_"I need help."_

Delmar and I exchanged glances. I could see that we all wore the same expressions of confusion and even wariness.

The speaker crackled. _"I'm up in the hills."_

I moved my gaze up towards the place of which he was referring to. Somehow, they didn't seem as boring as they did before.

"Are you in distress?" Sarge demanded.

The answer was too garbled to make out. Sarge cursed. "Spitter, what's the range on these things?"

"Couple miles," Spitter supposed. "Line of sight..."

"Sarge."

We looked up to where Delmar was pointing to see a flicker of light coming from the hills. "Looks like a signal mirror," Delmar explained.

"It's gotta be him," Crank agreed.

Sarge took that moment to think it over. I resisted the urge to fidget.

Finally, the decision was made.

"We're on a search and rescue mission."

* * *

**A/N: So, how was that? Bad? Good? Half-decent? Either way, I'd love to hear your opinions on this, guys.**

**On a more random note: I finally got _The Hills Have Eyes 2 _on DVD after hunting it down for two years! XD Thank you, Grandma! Sure, it's not the unrated version (which sucks, I only get like one special feature...), but it's the thought that counts!**


	3. Doing It Like A Dude

_**Winds of Change**_

_**By Berry's Ambitions**_

_**Chapter 2: Doing It Like A Dude**_

**A/N: ****As you can see, this story now has a cover! Credit goes to famine on LiveJournal. ^^ **

**One of my few reviewers asked about the POV in this story. Will we hear things from Letch's perspective again, or anyone else's? I don't know yet. We'll have to wait and see. If we do get anymore POVs, however, they will be in third-person (not first-person, like Stump's).**

**Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not _The Hills Have Eyes_.**

**WARNING: Coarse language and crude humour.**

* * *

My heart leapt. "That's right we are!" I cheered, beaming at anyone willing to look at me. I could see that I wasn't the only one who was excited.

"Shut the fuck up!"

I could feel my grin fade at Sarge's sudden anger.

"I said search and rescue. Not fuckin' spring break."

I was ready to give him a definition of _my_ typical spring break before he gave the next order. "I want you back here with weapons and gear for a climbing assault in five."

And, just like that, my mood brightened again. "Yes sergeant!" I chirped, running off with Mickey and Delmar to get our supplies. I grabbed a tactical harness, my gun, and other necessities. I couldn't believe this. My last day of training and I was already on a_ search and rescue mission!_

By the time I was adjusting my backpack, Sarge and Napoleon were going at it again.

"Do you like fuckin' with me, Napoleon?" Our 'brother' hadn't budged, I observed. "I think you do."

As if this day couldn't get any better...

"You know what?" Sarge made up his mind. "You're officially in charge of guarding the latrine."

Oh, _hell _no. I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back a snort. Didn't want to join Napoleon, after all.

"Not using it, but guarding it," Sarge elaborated. "I want you to stand on one leg and hold your rifle over your fucking head and make sure that _no one_ steals or molests this port-a-potty, or I will have your Gomer Pyle ass court-martialed _immediately. _Do you understand what I'm saying to you? _Do you understand me?"_

"Yeah, I'll go," Napoleon surrendered, exasperated. "I just think it's a bad idea."

What exactly Napoleon thought was a bad idea, I'm not sure, but the bad idea_ I _saw? Questioning Sarge's authority.

"Get over there and guard that fuckin' latrine, now!"

"Yes sergeant!"

And he was off. I turned my attention back to preparing. "Live ammo or blanks?" Delmar asked.

"One live mag for each weapon. It's heavier," Sarge replied. "Flashlight and hydration packs too. The more weight, the better for you clowns. You're halfway through your training and you look like a bunch of raw recruits. You're a disgrace to the National Guard and you wouldn't last five minutes in combat!"

Jesus Christ, Millstone. The man asked you a simple question. No need to get your balls in a twist. But still... the last part stung. I didn't need any more reminders about how unfit a soldier I was.

"One leg, Gomer Pyle!"

I smirked at Napoleon. I knew I was being a bitch, but I think I had a right. After all, he was the reason Sarge had gotten pissy with us in the first place. I noticed that everyone had begun leaving the truck and fell in line with them, as always.

"One leg!" I reminded Napoleon as I breezed past. Maybe next time he'd think twice before getting his whole squad blown to hell.

"Company, halt!"

We froze mid-step. I looked over my shoulder. Mickey and Amber were standing _very_ close together. "Sergeant?" Unlike Mickey, who was still oogling, Amber was back in military mode instantly.

"You stay here. Spitter's coming with us. Get on the main radio and try to raise somebody. If you can get through to a medevac, the guy'll have a hell if a better chance." He nodded at one of the tents. "Now move."

Although Amber's response was polite as always, I could tell just how disappointed she was not be coming with us. I couldn't blame her; Mickey was a doll.

_A doll who likes the skinny blonde better than me._

"Don't forget to write!" Mickey called after her, his eyes glued to Amber's ass as she strutted off.

I was relieved when Sarge started barking at us once more. "Get goin'! Turn around!" To Napoleon: "One leg!"

But, looking at Napoleon, I saw that he wasn't paying attention to Sarge, but to Amber.

Maybe the two of us had more in common than I originally thought.

* * *

"The hell are scientists doing all the way out here?" Mickey was mirroring my earlier question. "There's nothing but rocks and rattlesnakes."

"Army business, dumbass," Sarge retorted, "and definitely none of your business."

"But Sarge. I _am_ in the army."

"Which gives you the right to shut the_ fuck _up!"

Gotta love Crank. I laughed, but Mickey took it in stride. "Okay. I'll just shut the fuck up then."

But Crank ignored him, walking alongside Sarge now. "How many people are supposed to be out here?"

"I have no idea," Sarge admitted. "Maybe we can ask him up there."

"What are we supposed to do when we find this dude?" Spitter inquired.

"Well, it depends on how bad he is. We wait for a medevac, or we help him down by hand."

"I know I'm not supposed to talk, Sarge, but I hope-"

I never did find out what Mickey had been hoping for, because he dropped straight through the ground. I swore, grateful I'd been behind him, and fell to my knees alongside the others. Luckily, it didn't take long at all to pull him out of the hole.

After I was positive that my pal was okay, I peered into the space where he'd nearly fallen. "Hello?"

An echo. The hole was deep - Mickey would've been dead had we not moved as fast as we did. "Shit," I murmured, forcing a smile as I looked up. I couldn't let the guys (or even Missy) see how shaken I was.

"You saved my life, Sarge." Mickey pulled off his helmet. His dark hair was matted with sweat. That's what almost-dying did to you, I guess.

"Yeah, well, nobody's perfect," Sarge answered humbly. He got to his feet to go study the pit.

Spitter followed. "How far down does that thing go?"

"China?" I shrugged, the entire group huddling around as Sarge dropped a pebble. He waited, listening until it hit the bottom.

"Could be a hundred feet deep or a hundred years old. Just waitin' to suck your ass in." Sarge looked up at us. "So keep your eyes open. There are a lot of old mines around here."

Mickey grimaced, gingerly touching his leg.

"How's your ankle, Mickey?" The concern in Sarge's voice shocked me. It was hard to believe that this was the same guy cussing us out not too long ago.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, let's go." But when we helped him to his feet, he groaned in pain and doubled over. When Sarge helped him up once more, I saw that his blue eyes were pleading. He knew what was coming.

"We cannot afford to slow down."

"Come on, Sarge, let's go," Mickey insisted, standing up straight. This time the pain was so sharp he cried out, hopping around.

"Head back to base camp."

"Oh, come on, Sarge..."

"Mick, go back to camp." Sarge's tone was not unkind. "Now. That's an order."

Mickey gave in, not even trying to conceal how let down he felt. I watched sympathetically as he gathered his things and offered him a pat on the back. He didn't look at me twice.

_Because to him, I'm just one of the guys._

"What the fuck is everybody lookin' at? Let's keep movin'."

Ah. So the old Sarge had returned.

But this time, I didn't chase after them right away. Instead, I ran over to Mickey, calling his name.

He halted, gazing at me curiously.

I stood there for what seemed like eternity before I managed to say it. "I'm sure Amber will be glad to see you."

Mickey studied me for a few lingering moments. It was as if something had registered for the first time - or, more likely, he merely appreciated my attempt to make him feel better.

"Thanks, Stump," he said at last. "Good luck with the mission."

Mickey smiled one last time before turning his back for good.

* * *

Half an hour or so later I found myself holding Delmar's rope as he practically mountain-climbing.

"There you go," Sarge encouraged. Watching Delmar, I couldn't help but be impressed. He was careful but coordinated, liquid and smooth.

"Pick your spots," Sarge instructed.

Delmar shimmied along the edge, trying to ascend.

"Find the creases," Sarge advised.

Delmar found one, gripping it and pulling himself upward. I gripped the rope tighter, listening as Sarge cheering him on.

Delmar nearly slipped - my heart skipped a beat at the sight - but he caught a rock just in time. _"Ow!" _I shrieked approvingly.

"Keep goin', soldier," Sarge chimed in. Missy was silent as always, but, watching her expression, I could tell she too was rooting for our comrade.

Delmar continued to climb upwards.

"There you go, that's what I'm talkin' about, Delmar." For the first time, Sarge appeared almost... proud.

"Whoo! Nice!" Spitter praised, watching Delmar pull himself upwards yet again. Even Missy called out words of encouragement, although I couldn't quite catch them exactly.

Then, after what seemed liked forever, Delmar reached the top of the mountain. He slowly got to his feet, staring down at us incredulously, as if he couldn't believe he'd done it. We all burst into applause.

"All right!"

"Yeah! Spider-Man!"

"Good job!"

"You are officially a bad motherfucker." At long last, someone had finally earned the sergeant's respect. The fact that it was Delmar didn't surprise me in the least. Everyone liked him, even Missy, which was a miracle in itself.

And then, Sarge turned to me. "Stump, you're next."

I swallowed hard, plastering what I hoped was a cocky smile onto my face.

"The rest of you, get your asses ready!"

It was Spitter who held the rope for me. After slipping the harness on, I took a deep breath and stared up at the mountain.

_Alright, _I told myself. _You can do this. This is your chance to prove you're as good as the boys. You're not just the random girl with the big tits. You're more than that._

Licking my lips, I began.

It was steep, obviously, so it took some time to find my footing. I hoisted myself up, grunting. _Just because I'm not a stick figure like Amber and Missy doesn't mean I'm totally useless._

I found a crease just above my right hand and took hold of it. I stretched, bending my knees and pushing forwards. Then the other kne. The ease of which I was able to do this surprised me.

"Take your time and pick your spots, Stump," Sarge instructed.

I gritted my teeth.

_I can do this. I can do this._

I continued to scale the wall. Perspiration soaked the nape of my neck, no thanks to my ponytail, but now wasn't the time to fix it.

I perched myself on a ledge, the widest one on the entire rock face. I tried to recall what exactly Delmar had done. He was back on the ground by this point, although I didn't dare look down.

I used my legs to push up and quickly grab onto whatever I could. A little thrill shot through me as I grew closer and closer to the top. If only Mickey and Amber could see me now...

I pushed myself upwards one last time, found my footing, and took it in.

I had made it.

And, for the first time since we arrived, it felt good to be here.

* * *

**A/N: Well, there you have it! We now have more insight on how Stump feels about her teammates, and on Stump herself. I really hope the rockclimbing scene turned out alright, because I've never written anything like that before. I mean, I wanted to be realistic, but also show it's a great skill of hers... hopefully I pulled it off. It seemed kind of short to me by the time I finished it... sorry about that.**

**Not sure when the next chapter will be up, but I'll try not to take too long. Please review!**


	4. Rythmn of the War Drums

_**Winds of Change**_

_**By Berry's Ambitions**_

_**Chapter 3: Rythmn of the War Drums**_

**A/N: Sorry, I know this update took longer than the previous ones. I really don't have a fixed schedule as to when I'm gonna post new chapters, though, so hang in there. I've always pushed myself to give the characters I write for realistic reactions, so let's hope I succeeded. Things are gonna get ugly from here on out.**

**Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not _The Hills Have Eyes_. **

**WARNING: Coarse language, gore and thematic elements.**

* * *

"Man, this is some bullshit," Crank complained. I'd been following him when I noticed Missy standing still, brow furrowed and staring off into the distance.

I approached the older girl. "What?"

"Thought I heard something," she replied, still not looking at me. "A shot."

I hadn't heard a thing, but that didn't mean she was wrong. "This is a military base. People are shootin' all over the place."

Missy still didn't appear convinced. "I think it came from camp." Now she sounded worried. "Has anyone checked in with Amber recently?"

I plastered my notorious shit-eating grin onto my face to cover the disdain I was feeling. It had always really bothered me that Missy was all buddy-buddy with Amber and yet neither of them could be bothered with me. "Mickey's down there by now, and he's got her in a tent, and they're doin' a whole 'nother kind of training." _Ugh. I really hope I'm wrong._

The only reason I said that was to annoy Missy, but she didn't even roll her eyes. She must've been pretty anxious.

"Know what I mean?" I pressed, keeping my tone light.

She sighed.

"Sarge, over here!"

"I see it!"

I looked up. The others had found a signal mirror. I pointed to it, finally distracting her from her musings. "Another one."

"You two, get your asses up here!" Sarge ordered. Crap. I hadn't realized how long we'd been standing there.

"Come on." I gestured for her to follow and chased after them, listening to Missy's footsteps from behind me. Sarge kept calling out, but, like earlier, no one was responding.

By the time we reached them, I saw that Delmar was turning an object in his hands. "The red and black high-top forces? _What?_ And it's my size too?"

"What the fuck's it doing up here?" Crank wondered.

"Now if we could only find the other one, we'd be in business," Delmar murmured thoughtfully.

"Sarge!" By the tone Spitter was using, this was urgent. "Over here!"

I ran over with the others, pulling the distracted Delmar along as Spitter and Missy, who'd been with him, led us to their discovery.

It pretty much spoke for itself.

A man - one I didn't recognize at all - lay there, unmoving in a puddle of his own blood.

"What the fuck is in his head?" I probably looked as shocked as Sarge sounded. But, unlike me, who stood there trying not to vomit, Sarge was back in business an instant later, addressing Crank. "Private Crackhead."

"Huh?" If there was someone here who shared my nausea, it was Crank.

"Fish it out."

He did as he was told, bending down with a barely-supressed shudder and beginning to pull. Seeing Crank all grossed out would have been funny had the situation not been so serious.

The object was removed with a disgusting 'sqelch' a minute later. A wallet.

Stunned by what he'd just found, Crank unfolded it and read aloud. "'Dr. Paul Foster'. Department of Defense." Crank looked up at us, deadly serious. "Looks like we found out of our scientists." He closed the wallet and tossed it onto the ground.

Sarge didn't miss a beat. "Lock and load."

"This isn't supposed to happen on an army base, man," I said slowly, a chill going down my spine.

"In the middle of a U.S. army facility," Crank chimed in.

"The size of Rhode Island." So even Sarge knew that something was beyond off. "Look, if some asshole wants to go nuts, this is a damn good place to do it. Spitter, get Amber on the radio."

Spitter tried, but, not to my surprise, his attempts were futile. The sound of a bird chirping caused me to practically jump out of my skin, and I silently cursed myself for showing weakness. That was the last thing we needed right now.

At long last, Spitter shook his head and hung up. "There's too much interference."

Missy spoke for the first time. "Sarge, we should go back down."

"Amber's fine," Sarge assured her, as if reading her mind. "She's got Mick and Napoleon."

_"Help me."_

This time, we all sprung a few feet into the air. Metaphorically speaking.

"That the radio?"

Spitter nodded.

"Let me have it."

Spitter did as the sergeant requested.

Sarge held the device to his mouth. "Colonel Redding, is that you?"

None of us could make out the garbled response. I looked to and fro, trying to keep cool.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

Yet again, Sarge received no response.

"That wasn't the same voice as before," Missy pointed out. Now that I thought about it, she was right...

"Maybe it was, and maybe it wasn't. But if somebody's hurt, we're gonna help him."

I gave him a questioning look, not really buying it.

"And if somebody is fucking with us, we're gonna find out who it is."

How comforting.

"Sarge-" There was a pleading note to Missy's voice that hadn't been present earlier.

"I told you before, this isn't spring break." There was no room for negotation here. Not with Sarge. "One way or another, lives are at stake."

Neither Missy nor I could argue with that logic.

"That's how it is," Sarge stated simply.

Missy looked as if she wanted to say more, but was wise enough to keep her mouth shut.

"Crank, Spitter, you stay with me on lead," Sarge instructed. "Missy, Stump, Delmar, you bring up the rear. Watch our backs. Stay alert and stay alive. Let's move."

I could only hope it would be fast enough.

* * *

"Stump, calm down."

Missy spoke to me in an irritatingly patient way I paced around.

"How can either of you be calm?" I stared at her and Delmar, eyes huge. "You do realize there's some psycho running around trying to kill us, right?"

"Stump." Delmar's tone matched Missy's. "That's what being a soldier's all about. Risks."

"If you were afraid of this kind of thing-"

"What?" I crossed my arms, staring up at Missy defiantly. Sometimes I hated being the shortest member of the squad (hence my nickname). "I shouldn't have taken the job? I knew damn well what I was getting into." I looked at Delmar. "D, c'mon. This isn't like any of those other times. Sarge said so himself."

"All we gotta do is remember the training, and we should be fine," he assured me.

I sighed, holding my rifle close to my chest. "What if there are more than one?"

"It doesn't matter," Missy said calmly. "Whoever these people are, we have something they don't. Preparation. Tactic."

"You honestly think we'll make it out of this in one piece?" I wished Mickey were here-

"SARGE!"

The reaction was instant.

"That was Spit, man," Delmar gasped. We bolted.

It seemed as if everyone was gathering at once, Sarge's name being screamed over and over. While Delmar rushed to a tearful Spitter's aid, Missy and I made a beeline towards Sarge.

Who lay on the ground.

He wasn't moving.

Blood. There was so much blood. We both knelt by him, pleading for him to awaken but to no avail. Then it hit me. The wounds. He'd been shot - more than once. Did these people have guns?

Oh, God. Not Sarge. Not our leader. Not the one with all the experience. The only person here who had a _clue_ what they were doing.

He choked out a breath. He was still alive, but not for much longer if we didn't act now. "What do we do?" I asked Missy shakily. Out of the corner of my eye, I swore I saw Napoleon run by.

"Go get me the medipack!"

"Medipack!" I groped around, unable to find it. _"D!"_

Delmar looked up from Spitter, whom he was consoling.

"Medipack! Bring it here!" I gestured frantically, listening as poor Sarge struggled for air.

Delmar wasted no time. I took it from him and began rummaging through it, in such a state of shock that it was a miracle that I was functioning properly.

"Is he okay?" Spitter kept crying. "Is he okay?"

Missy had pulled off Sarge's body armour and was now doing chest compressions; Sarge just lay there, eyes closed, blood dribbling from his lips.

"Sarge?" Missy's voice was desperate. Delmar looked on fearfully. "Sarge?" Her voice rosed a pitch, and she pressed harder. "Come on, breathe. Breathe Sarge..." She checked his pulse. "Sarge, stay with us." This was the closest to hysteria I'd ever seen Missy, and it disturbed me. I didn't associate Missy Martinez with hysteria.

As Spitter's pitiful wails began to pierce the air once more, I looked up to see Amber hovering over us. I felt immense relief at that. I may not have liked Amber all that much, but I was glad that she was safe.

My relief, however, soon turned to overwhelming fear when I remembered Sarge. "What do we need?" I asked Missy, holding the medipack out.

She let out a whimper in response.

_"What do you need?"_ I was ready to shake her by the shoulders.

Missy stared at me, the tears in her eyes unmistakable.

_"Crank!"_ The agony in Spitter's voice was near-impossible to bear.

"Missy, what do you need?" For the second time in a hour, I felt a chill go down my spine.

She continued to stare at Sarge, quivering.

_"Crank!"_ Spitter sobbed. "Crank, tell them, man! Tell them!"

Delmar put a hand over his face and turned away just as Missy lowered her head, allowing herself to cry over the body.

Not Sarge. A body.

"It was an accident." Crank seemed on the verge of tears himself. "It was a fucking accident."

Accident?

The pieces began to fit together.

Spitter... _Jesus Christ._

Amber's face was blank, I saw. That's how I felt. Frozen. I wasn't even able to let it out, like Spitter and Missy. I was stuck.

"They're fucking with us," Crank whimpered. "These guys are smart."

They'd known. They'd known Sarge was in charge, so they took him out.

Crank was wrong. This was far from an accident.

Napoleon stared off into the distance. The one time I wished he would say something, he didn't.

I heard a clatter - Spitter had thrown something - and more crying.

_"It was easy,"_ Delmar had said, about killing. _"That's what makes it so dangerous."_

Sarge was gone. And, even with the knowledge we weren't _totally_ useless, I felt utterly helpless. The one thing I could be grateful for was the others had made it back-

Wait.

I scanned the area, tension coating my muscles as I did.

"Amber?"

She looked up at me.

"Where's Mickey?"

She turned her head, but not before I caught sight of her face crumpling.

The desert suddenly seemed very cold.

* * *

I helped carry the body.

"Watch between the rocks," Amber warned. "Under your feet, too."

Spitter asked the question that had been plaguing me since she and Napoleon had told us their story. "That's how they got Mickey?"

"That's how they did it." Thankfully, Amber didn't want to discuss it anymore than I did.

"God..." Spitter was obviously sickened. Good. I'd be more worried if he was taking this all in stride.

I knew I was darting glances around like a deer in the headlights, but at this point I didn't give a shit. I think I had a right to be scared.

No. Scared didn't even begin to cover it.

It had to be Mickey. The sweet, goofy guy who'd been my friend since practically day one. To my surprise, I found myself sympathizing with Amber. She'd known him as well as I had, if not better. In the back of my mind I wondered how seriously they'd been, but had enough common sense not to ask.

Delmar abruptly raised his gun.

"What is it?" Crank questioned.

Delmar narrowed his eyes.

Spitter spoke softly, not wanting to attract anymore unwanted attention. "What do you see, Delmar?"

Delmar turned back to us. It felt like years since he'd been joking around about shoes. "It's nothin'. We're almost there." He jerked his head for us to follow, and none of us wasted anytime following the command.

Delmar stopped short. End of the road - or rather, cliff. "Alright, guys," he announced. "Let's rig a line and get Sarge down."

"I'm going with him," Spitter said automatically. I walked over to Delmar, whom he was talking to, in hopes of offering assistance.

"Sorry, Spit. I don't know how to rig for a two-man."

"Yeah, me either, man," I confessed apologetically.

"I can do it."

The look Spitter shot at Napoleon could have set a house on fire. Missy eyed him critically. She hadn't said a word after her breakdown, but her body language was enough to get her point across.

"Alright, alright," Delmar agreed before any protests could start. "Let's make it happen."

Napoleon removed his bag from his shoulder, setting it on the ground. I joined him seconds later, gathering supplies. "You need two, right?" I was referring to the ropes.

"Yeah."

I handed it to him, suddenly wondering if I should apologize for my douchery earlier.

"Oh, and a couple of those carabiners," he added.

I did as he asked, deciding that no way was not the time for heart-to-hearts. Napoleon began tying to the knot. I watched his fingers at work, impressed. We all had a talent, supposedly; I guess his was tying ropes.

"Yo, prop him up."

I helped Crank lift the body, carrying him over to where the rest of us stood. Amber held Sarge steady when it became apparent that two of us couldn't handle his weight.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Despite everything, Crank still didn't trust Napoleon.

He nodded, standing up. "Double bowline." He held it up for us to see. "Right knot for the job."

Crank remained unconvinced. "You sure about that?"

"I was an Eagle Scout."

I think that if we weren't all in mortal danger, Crank would've mocked him. But instead, all he said was, "It better fuckin' hold."

"Come on, Spit, let's do it," Delmar said.

Spitter rose, and we hooked him to the body. Delmar and I looked at him apprehensively. "You ready?"

Spitter nodded.

"Alright."

Sarge was handed over. As we tied him to Spitter, I saw how, exactly, our leader leader was going to be carried, and instantly feel sorry for Spitter.

"I'm sorry, Spitter," Napoleon said gently. Sarge's head was resting on Spitter's shoulder. "It's the only way. If he gets lose he'll fall out of his harness. Okay?"

Spitter seemed to be in a trance. "Mm-hm."

"Okay." Napoleon nodded at us, signalling that he was all set.

"See you down there, _cabrón."_

"Okay, man," Spitter replied tiredly, barely even acknowledging Crank.

"Okay..." We began to lower Spitter off the edge of the cliff. "Easy," I instructed, "easy..."

Spitter seemed to be doing well so far. "Alright, man," I guided. "Plant your feet..." I backed up, trying to keep him in my line of sight. "Take it easy... Right there, Spitter, you got it. Plant your feet, man."

It went on like this for a while, with me watching and offering tips while the others chattered nervously in the background. "You comfortable?" I asked Spitter.

"Yeah."

"You're looking good, man!" I praised. "Keep it right there." I turned to the others, who were clutching the rope, and raised a hand in warning. "Alright, slow down. I'm about to lose visual. Slow down a little." I raised my voice. "Keep it slow, Spitter!"

I could hear the sound of the rope straining, and my heart skipped a few beats. "Yo! Slow down! Slow down-"

The rope promptly snapped, sending my comrades flying backwards and Spitter straight to the bottom. I screamed his name repeatedly, as if hoping to summon him... but it was too late.

"What... what happened?" Amber cried.

Delmar joined me, following my gaze.

There, on the bottom of the rocks, lay Spitter and Sarge's bloody forms.


	5. Poison Truths

_**Winds of Change**_

_**By Berry's Ambitions**_

_**Chapter 4: Poison Truths**_

**A/N: Okay, so I finally have a good idea as to where I'm taking the plot and the characters, which is totally stress-relieving. The rating will almost definitely go up... not sure if this counts as a plus or a minus. Guess it depends on you readers.**

**It's been decided - there will be other POVs other than Stump, but they will be in third-person. This story will obviously be from Stump's perspective most of the time, and I'm only going to be switching it around when I feel it's necessary. ****On a more random note, I discovered I'll be moving at the end of August. Just thought I should give you all a heads-up in case it interfers with updates and the like.**

**On with chapter four!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not _The Hills Have Eyes_.**

* * *

"What happened?" was what Crank kept repeating, over and over.

I turned to Delmar, speaking in a detached voice. "He's fuckin' dead, man."

"What the fuck happened?" Crank demanded yet again.

I didn't bother glossing it over. "He's fuckin' dead."

Mickey. Sarge. And now Spitter.

All dead.

I was vaguely aware of Delmar pulling Spitter's rope upwards to examine it. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see Crank's last nerve snap. "Your fuckin' knot didn't hold you lying _faggot!"_ He shoved Napoleon to the ground.

"The rope must've broke!" Napoleon stammered as he stood up.

Delmar stormed over, brandishing his discovery. "The rope didn't break."

"Exactly!" Crank was hasty to agree.

"It was cut." Delmar held it up for everyone to see.

My heart began to thud so hard against my ribcage that it was painful, and I took a deep breath. It didn't help. I was thoroughly rattled.

Delmar threw the rope down in anger.

"Oh, man..." I brought my hands up to my face before letting them fall limply at my sides. "We're gettin' picked off one by one here..." I began to wander about, looking for something to grasp. Someone to blame.

Crank began spewing curses and fired his gun into the distance.

And then Napoleon spoke.

"Where are the ropes?"

The area became very, very quiet.

Anxiety coloured his tone now. "Hey, where are the rest of the ropes?"

Delmar pointed. "I put 'em up there." He sounded totally baffled.

"They're gone," Napoleon realized aloud. My legs began to feel wobbly. "They're not here."

Amber stood for the first time, snapping out of her apparent stupor. "We can't get down without ropes."

I was ready to_ throttle_ something by this point. Or perhaps burst into tears. "Who the hell is doing all this..." I searched for the right words but found none. _"...fuckin' bullshit_ to us..."

"Whoever these fuckers are," Crank said as Napoleon handed out our weapons, "they want us dead."

_But why?_ I wondered. _What the hell did we do to these people to make them wanna kill us? Or are they just plain nuts?_

"No, that's where they want us," Delmar correct, addressing us all. "Thinkin' we got no chance. We're gonna get out of this together." He tightened his grip on the rifle he held. "Let's think about that."

"How do we get down?" Amber pointed out shakily.

"There's gotta be a way." Looking at Missy's fierceness, even when merely speaking, I began to feel grateful that she was on our side. "They got up here. We'll take the same way down."

* * *

Which is exactly what we did.

"Watch your step," Delmar cautioned. "It's a long way down."

_No shit,_ I thought bitterly, Spitter's mangled body popping into my head. We treaded carefully, each of us prepared to shoot if necessary.

"Damn," Delmar cursed as some rocks tumbled over the ledge.

But we kept going.

By the time we were on the next level, Crank began to swear.

Stepping closer, I understood why.

"Another dead end!" Crank glared at Delmar, accusing. "No way we're gettin' down without ropes, I told you!"

"We go and find another way," Delmar replied sagely.

That was when we heard the noise. Not just any noise - a voice. A grunt. Naturally, we pointed our weapons in that direction. "Oh, shit!" I muttered, preparing to turn around. Delmar, however was doing the opposite. "D!" I hissed, out of patience. "Why the fuck are we moving towards the weird noises?"

"Just shut the hell up!" Missy snapped.

"You shut the hell up! This is bullshit!"

Delmar had completely tuned us out, still walking ahead.

"D!" I pleaded.

He shushed me before stopping in his tracks. "Holy _shit."_

That was enough to get me to look at what was going on.

It was a man. He was trembling and disfigured with wounds, positively drenched in blood. I had no way of knowing if it was his or not, but I wasn't gonna wait around to find out.

"Let's get some first aid," Delmar ordered.

"Coming up." Missy hurried off to retrieve it, and I decided it would be safest if I accompanied her.

"Napoleon, watch our backs."

"Got it."

I watched as Missy rummaged through the kit, impressed despite the circumstances. She was good at this job, and if we weren't in in a pile of steaming crap I would've asked her more about it.

Finally, she'd gathered what she needed and approached the guy, who I'd learned was the missing colonel through eavesdropping. "Better let me see those wounds, sir-"

_"You don't have a fucking clue!"_

His outburst caused us all to jump. The colonel began to chuckle, but the sound was far from pleasant. It was as if he were sharing a private joke with himself.

I pointed my gun at him right when the screams started. Shrill, piercing, mocking screams, sending us ducking for cover. My rifle was literally trembling in my hands.

"Sir," Delmar said, slowly and very calmly, not taking his eyes off the landscape before us. "If you know something we should know, now's the time."

"I just needed a little proof."

We whirled around to see the guy standing not too far from us, holding a pistol.

"Proof of what?" Napoleon asked nervously.

"What's going on, Colonel?" Delmar demanded.

But the guy appeared to be talking to himself rather than to us. "It's not the fucks in caves... halfway around the world that keep me up at night." Even the act of merely talking appeared to be exhausting him.

I glanced at my friends questioningly, crouched in front of them.

"They're right here," the colonel went on, "in the middle of our own goddamn base."

I blinked, trying to make sense of what he was telling us.

"People still living in the mines..."

Suddenly I remembered what Sarge said, about how we were surrounded by mines from a hundred years ago. I recalled of how Mickey died, and immediately began wishing for my ignorance back. This was all too much.

"They thought they got rid of them, but I knew they didn't."

Crank spoke my next thoughts aloud. "You knew about these fuckers?"

Again, the colonel didn't seem to be listening. "One or two more nights, I-I-I-I could've had 'em blown back to the Stone Age."

_So they were planning to get rid of these people,_ I realized, _and they got picked off the way exactly how we did. That's why no one was here when we arrived._

"Tell us what to do, Colonel," Crank said sharply. "How do we get out of here?"

I hesitantly lowered my gun. The information that came next had to be crucial.

"That's a good fuckin' question, isn't it?" The guy seemed practically amused. "You could... you could go down through the mines... except they'd kill you for sure. All except the girls."

It felt as if he'd slapped me across the face, but I think the slap would have left less of an impact.

"You ladies..." He swept his gaze across Missy, Amber and myself. "...they'll keep you alive for breeding, and trying to get their numbers back up."

I felt more stupefication and dread in that single moment than I had the entire day.

_Breeding._

My blood turned to ice as the implications of the term sunk in.

_"What?"_ Amber didn't have to say more. All the distress she was obviously feeling had been summed up in that one word.

The colonel laughed hysterically.

"Yeah, whatever asshole." Crank narrowed his eyes at him. "How do we get down from the hill?"

The colonel stared at him for a moment. "Simple." He raised the pistol to his temple, and, ignoring our pleas not to, pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed throughout the hills as his body fell backwards and out of sight.

We all stood there, at loss for words.

"What the fuck?" Crank's voice had gone up an octave. "What the fuck was that, man?"

I wouldn't be able to tell him even if I wanted to.

And, to add insult to injury, the screams began ringing out once again.

* * *

By late afternoon, the plan was set.

Amber, Missy and I were perched unarmed on a large rock.

If you haven't figured out what exactly the plan was by now, then you are a dumbass.

I crossed and uncrossed my legs, but my attempts to get comfortable were in vain. There was nothing remotely comfortable about this situation.

I sat on Missy's left while Amber sat on her right. The heat had become so unbearable for Amber that she'd shed her jacket and let her hair down. I was too worried over exposing myself to the predators, opting to keep all my clothes on. (Normally I was damn proud of my curves, but today was an exception.) Missy was somewhere in the middle; she'd unzipped her jacket and rolled up her sleeves, but otherwise remained her respectable self.

Amber was the first to break the heavy silence."I don't know how much more of this I can take." She was close to tears. To my surprise, Missy actually leaned over to wrap her arms around the other girl, concern giving way to her mask of indifference. "I'm so fucking scared."

"We're gonna get through this," Missy promised, giving her a slight squeeze before pulling away. Out of the corner of my eye, I swore I saw movement. "We're gonna make it out of here, okay?"

"You really think so?" I asked, feeling like I was intruding on their personal bubble.

Missy glanced at me. "Have to. I'm the only real family Clyde's got." She looked into the distance, obviously nostalgic. "I'd give anything just to smell his hair again."

Perhaps I'd judged her maternal instincts a bit too harshly... Missy may not have been the most approachable person on the squad, but she loved her son. There was no doubt about it.

"You never talk about him." Amber gazed at her, perplexed.

It took Missy a moment to answer that. "Work's work. Family is... I don't know, sacred?"

Her words sent me an unwelcome pang of guilt, one I shoved away immediately.

There was another rustle of movement, but we were forced to show no fear. Couldn't blow our cover, after all.

"Always tried keeoing the two seperate." Missy reached into her pocket and pulled out a Samsung phone for Amber and I to see. "Guess that's all bullshit now."

A video labelled _CLYDE_MP4_ began to play. There stood a small boy singing 'The Itsy-Bitsy Spider'. He was the spitting image of his mother, sharing her olive skin, dark hair, and brown eyes. He was adorable.

The video ended with a close-up of Clyde's face._ "Love you, Mommy!"_

"Damn," I murmured to Missy, feeling oddly touched. I had never seen her look so content before, or so proud.

"He's beautiful," Amber told her, smiling for the first time in ages.

But before Missy could respond, it became apparent that we were no longer alone. _"Now!" _she screamed. The three of us ducked for cover, clamping our hands over our ears.

Bullets whizzed through the air, courtesy of Delmar, Crank and Napoleon. For the first time, I was able to get a good look at our attacker.

He was _huge, _easily over six feet, with blood spraying from new wounds. He wore dirty overalls and weilded a meat cleaver.

But that wasn't what frightened me.

He was missing huge chunks of flesh, and his face... it wasn't properly formed.

Almost against my will, I remembered Napoleon's comment from this morning, about A-bombs.

Was it really possible that the people trying to kill us weren't even _human?_

At long last, the thing collapsed, punctuated by Crank's loud, "Bi-otch!"

Amber could barely even speak. "Is he... dead?"

I could only watch as the guys wandered over to look at their kill, Missy helping Amber and I to our feet. Amber's breath was coming in short pants. "You alright?" I asked her, furrowing my brow. The last thing we needed right now was a heart attack.

She nodded stiffly, glowering at the body. "It's the piece of shit that jumped me back at camp. I think he killed Mickey, too."

I found myself tempted to throw the fucker right off the cliff. Or maybe bring him back to life so I could kill him myself.

Crank nudged it with his foot. Yep, definitely dead.

Then the odour hit us. It was the most disgusting thing ever, and I mean _ever. _Like a mixture of blood and dirt and BO... and other things I didn't even want to _think_ about. I held back a gag. Amber had begun holding her nose, and even Missy was grimacing in revulsion.

"Damn," Delmar commented, "he's fuckin' _ugly."_

"Fuckin' stinks," Crank grumbled.

"He's fuckin' big, man," I said quietly, stepping over to Delmar. _Unnaturally big._

"Still nothin' a little hot lead can't fix," Crank smirked.

I had to laugh. "Hot lead? Listen to you, man!"

"Yeah, well, it's just one," Napoleon reminded us. "How many are left?"

"Hey." Crank shrugged, not bothered in the slightest. "Bring 'em on, man."

"Hey." Delmar touched Amber's arm. "You guys did good." He shot me an approving look as well.

"Thanks," Amber responded half-heartedly.

Crank sniffed the corpse. "Smells like shit, man..."

"Yeah! We got this!" I crowed. Some of my teammates nodded in agreement, exchanging grins. The others didn't seem so thrilled. I couldn't quite explain what caused me to change my mind. I think I was high off the fact we managed to actually kill something. Especially since that thing took Mickey away...

My high immediately plummeted when Amber grabbed my arm, a look of alarm on her face. "Where's Missy?"

The answer came in the form of our friend's terrified shriek.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed the last several chapters! It means a lot!**


	6. Defying Fate

_**Winds of Change**_

_**By Berry's Ambitions**_

_**Chapter 5: Defying Fate**_

**A/N: Words cannot describe how sorry I am for the long wait! Like I said in another one of my author's notes, I really haven't had much time to type things up on the computer, and it took a while to get this just right. Finally, we depart from canon! :) Hope that this makes up for the brief hiatus!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not _The Hills Have Eyes_. **

**WARNING: Coarse language and thematic elements.**

* * *

"Shit!"

"It's Missy!"

We ran like hell towards the sound of her voice.

"Help!" she cried, but I still couldn't see her anywhere. My heart was sinking so deeply that I swore I felt it beat in my stomach.

"There!" Napoleon yelled, pointing.

I looked just in time to see, in the distance, Missy getting dragged off by a misshapen creature through the entrance of a cave, screaming bloody murder.

My panic was beginning to turn into hysteria.

"Watch yourselves!" Delmar called. We slowed down as we reached the entrance.

_God only knows what's in there... and where Missy's being taken to..._

I didn't want to imagine the possibilities.

We hurried inside. _Mines,_ I realized with a jolt.

"Missy!" Delmar shouted frantically, but there was no sign of her or the freak. I spotted light filtering in through the ceiling and wondered if she was up there by now. _It's Missy, _I tried to ration. _If anything, I should feel sorry for the guy who took her._

"Missy!"

Still, nothing but echoes.

We all cried out in surprise as rocks began to tumble down on us, barely missing our heads. I started longing for my helmet back.

I looked at Delmar, searching for guidance, and he jerked his head forward. _Not _the direction I wanted to go.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Delmar..." I grabbed his arm and pulled him forwards to face me. "You heard what that dude said." _Breeding. Like a bunch of fucking animals._ "We should climb down, man."

"What are you talkin' about?"

"I'm talkin' about you and me." I swallowed hard. "We don't need ropes. We can make it down freestyle no sweat, man. Let's just do it."

"What about the rest of us?" Crank asked sharply.

"What about _Missy?" _The fury in Amber's stare almost made me back away. She looked betrayed, so much that I forced myself to turn back to Delmar.

"We can get down fast and you know it," I insisted. I looked at the others pleadingly. I really didn't want them angry at me. Not now. "The rest of you guys just... just hang tough, and we're gonna bring back some help..."

"Fuck that!" Crank spat.

"We stick together," Delmar told me. "It's the best way. We seperate-"

"We're dead," Napoleon finished.

"You got that right." Crank was giving me a look of undisguised contempt.

They might as well have took turns punching me in the gut. Crank and Napoleon agreeing over what I believed was best? My lower lip began to tremble.

Delmar gazed at me, his face the only sympathetic one in the room. "Stump..."

I shook my head, blinking back tears. "I'm gonna take my chances, man." I shoved past him, starting to leave.

"Stay with us." His tone, like always, was completely level. "Come on."

I stood my ground. I would rather die than get raped by a monster. Amber had no right to be mad at me - she was the one making fatal decisions. What good would it do Missy if we were to join her?

But that wasn't what I said. I couldn't say those things in front of everyone. "When I get down," I said, as calmly as managable, "I'm gonna bring back help."

"This is _stupid,"_ Crank warned me.

I lost my cool, gesturing ahead of us. "Crank, _that _is fuckin' stupid, man," I snapped, giving Amber a meaningful look.

Everyone got really quiet. At long last, I'd made a valid point. The wind groaned ominiously.

"I'm gonna bring back help," I repeated softly. I looked at my teammates one last time, wondering if I'd ever see them again, before darting off to my destiny.

* * *

It didn't take long at all to get out of the mines. I perched myself on a rock, studying the landscape before me. "All right," I mumbled to myself, trying to steady my nerves. "Okay."

But by the time I'd descended to the next level, I heard a noise. I gasped, pointing my gun in the direction it came from, but there was no one. Hopefully.

I looked around wildly for something to shoot. Anything.

"Fuck!" I cursed. I took a deep breath and continued to move forward, palms slippery with sweat. "It's just fuckin' rocks," I told myself, although I don't think I believed it.

I took a step backwards, my movements jerky and awkward. "You're not gonna..." I panted, looking upwards. Still no one. I gritted my teeth. "I'm not gonna let you bastards get me," I vowed. "Not me, not today. It's not gonna happen."

Missy said we were going to get through this, and I believed her. I planned to make good on that promise. It was the least I could do for the poor girl. The very memory of Missy, who I'd only begun getting to know, made me feel sick with guilt and anxiety.

_You're doing the right thing, Stump. You're going to bring back help, and Missy will be safe. It's not too late for her._

I peered down below me. _But it's too late for Spitter._ I swallowed the lump in my throat, slung my gun over my back, and began to descend.

This was far worse than the first time. For one thing, I had no harness, and I was on my own. No one had my back.

I shimmied along the edge, careful not to lose my footing. I glanced around, even mere animal noises causing me to feel uneasy.

I continued to climb downwards, murmuring words of encouragement to myself when I discovered a hole in the wall. Sighing in momentary relief, I slipped inside. I could see it was tunnel of sorts, with light on the other side. Could this be part of the mines?

"Delmar?"

I waited a while. I was so sweaty that my clothes were literally clinging to my body. Damn this uniform. "Delmar!"

No luck.

Defeated, I climbed out of the hole and preparing to descend once more, lowering my body downwards.

To say what happened next caught me off-guard would be an understatement.

A calloused hand secured itself around the wrist that was still gripping the ledge.

I screamed immediately, and, by one arm, was yanked upwards, getting a good look at my enemy for the first time.

He was even more unpleasant than the first one - two counting the one who took Missy, but I had barely caught a glimpse of that guy - covered in bumps and other weird growths. He was as big as Mickey's murderer, if not bigger. An army hat was perched on his head, and his clothes were tattered and filthy. His eyes were bright green and glinted with malice.

_"Oh God!"_ The voice coming out of me barely felt like my own. _"Somebody help me!"_

A sick grin spreading across his face, the beast slowly shook his head. He then pulled me forwards - hard - and into the darkness we went.

So, naturally, I did what any sane person would do.

I screamed.

Loud.

I attempted to wrench myself away from him - no dice. It was like he was on steroids or something.

No. No no no no _no._ I wasn't letting his nasty ass anywhere _near_ me.

I managed to kick him in the gut, knocking the air out of him. But not for long, because the moment I began crawling away his knees dug into my back. I was screaming something specific around that point, like a name, but even now I can't recall exactly whose it was.

I lost control when my jacket was torn off, beginning to sob. I knew what the fucker was going to do. I knew I was powerless to stop him.

And I knew it was my own damn fault that I was in this situation at all.

The guy flipped me onto my back again. I could hear his breath coming out in raspy, desperate pants.

Our gazes locked.

Abruptly, he paused. It was as if he was making a connection of some sort.

I saw my chance.

"Please, _please_ don't." I loathed myself in that moment. The weakness in my voice. The fact I was stooping this low. _"Please."_

The man continued to crouch there, staring at me. I couldn't read his expression at all. I think mannequins looked livelier than he did right then.

My muscles went rigid, fingernails breaking the skin in my palms.

A very long, uncomfortable moment passed before it happened. He blinked, as if emerging from a trance, before pulling his teeth back in a vicious snarl.

I don't recall his fist connecting with my skull. Only the ringing in my ears, the pounding in my head, and the awareness that I was officially fucked.

* * *

**A/N: Ugh, this turned out like shit (in my opinion) and I'm sorry for that. I was in a bit of a hurry, as this may have been my only chance of updating this until God-knows-when. I'll try editing it soon so it looks a bit better. Yes, there is an explanation behind Letch freezing up, and it will be revealed soon enough. Reviews would be lovely.**


	7. Hostile Territory

_**Winds of Change**_

_**By Berry's Ambitions**_

_**Chapter 6: Hostile Territory**_

**A/N: Author's note at the bottom due to my iPod being a bitch...**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not _The Hills Have Eyes_. **

**WARNING: Coarse language, sexual content, violence and thematic elements.**

* * *

Missy supposed she had no one to blame but herself.

It hadn't seem like a completely idiotic decision at the time, but the more she mulled it over, the more she began to realize how stupid she'd been. Of course going off by herself wasn't safe - it was one of the first, most basic rules of training. At the very least she could've asked Amber to watch her back.

But no. Missy had been so embarrassed by her urgency, so hasty to do her business, that she'd walked off without a word. She'd convinced herself she would only be a minute, and that she wasn't that far from her group. How could she have predicted the bastard's ability to blend into rocks?

Missy chalked her decision down to years of self-preservation and the desire to rely on no one but herself finally taking its toll on her.

And now here she was, slung over the beast's shoulder like some sort of object without the faintest clue where she was being taken to. She wasn't sure she wanted to find out, either.

Abruptly Missy was flipped over, tumbling onto the ground with a yelp.

Her first thoughts when she was able to look around were _Oh, God._

The room, like the rest of the mines, was dimly lit. She could hear the quiet sound of static in the background - TVs, perhaps? There was furniture as well, such as a table and an armchair.

If this man's intentions hadn't been obvious before, they were blatantly so now.

As he crept towards her, Missy was overcome by a wave of sickening dread. He was about six-five, if she were to guess. Muscular but lanky. The look in his eyes - sky blue in colour - made her skin crawl. She felt naked.

_"Want,"_ he stated.

His voice startled her. It was the first time he'd uttered a sound since her kidnapping, and she honestly hadn't expected this. It was soft - lulling, even. But what really caught Missy off-guard was the fact he could speak at all. _These people are savages. They can't possibly be educated._

She wasn't so sure, now.

The man crouched down to her level. "Mama," he whispered, carefully enunciating each syllable.

Missy gasped in spite of herself, half-sitting up. Redding's remark about 'breeding' came to mind, and she started backing away.

_"Pretty,"_ he purred, the word rolling off his tongue as he reached out for her.

Missy promptly spat in his face.

He flinched, expression changing from disbelief to outrage in such a brief span of time that Missy could barely absorb it. The man - the _mutant_ - lifted her y the shirt, snarling. "Dirty..._ cunt!"_

Missy was dropped onto the table and he grabbed hold of her legs, attempting to straddle her. "Come here," he growled.

She tried and failed to pull away. "No!"

The struggle lasted about ten seconds before he yelled, "Mine!"

Missy didn't realize she'd been backhanded until her skull met wood, the taste of copper filling her mouth. Her lip had been split.

The mutant reacted instantly, sighing as if relieved and pulling her hand away from her injury. Missy was in too much pain to fight as he caressed her face, sliding a finger into her mouth before bringing it back to his lips, cleaning his digit of her blood.

"So sweet," he murmured, hot breath blowing against her cheeks.

She refused to acknowledge him until something moist brushed against her face.

Missy opened her eyes to be greeted by a foot-long, darkened tongue. Moaning, he licked the side of her face. Trembling violently, the young woman began to scream but was cut off by his sudden grip on her neck. As the tongue slid into her mouth, he brought his face closer to hers, groans intensifying.

When it touched the back of her throat, Missy decided she'd had it, biting down. _Hard._

He let out a startled shriek, retracting his tongue from her mouth. Missy was satisfied to discover he was now bleeding, bringing her boot upwards and swinging it between his legs. Catching a glimpse of the man doubling over in pain, Missy bolted towards the door.

...Just as someone else was walking through it.

Missy came to a screeching halt, mouth going dry.

This mutant was not like the others. She was aware of this instantly. He was monstrous, easily as tall as the first attacker but twice as muscle-bound. And not even the lizard-like mutant had looked upon her with such unadultered contempt.

She only had her arms raised - in a one last, vain attempt to save herself, she supposed - for a heartbeat before he swung his arm back and knocked her across the room.

But this time, Missy did not get up.

* * *

Chameleon's heart sank as Hades slowly, delibrately turned in his direction. He began stumbling backwards, raising his hands the same way the brunette had moments before.

"No..." he gasped, feeling blood dribble down his chin. Desperately he pointed to the girl, who lay slumped in the corner. "...was her..." He waved his hands frantically, but Hades' eyes remained steely.

"Papa..." Chameleon's voice rose slightly as the clan patriarch began advancing. "No-"

The blow sent him sprawling onto the floor, but Chameleon recovered immediately, getting on all fours. He could still feel his father's piercing stare on his back even when he was halfway down the hall.

* * *

The first thing Missy saw when she regained consciousness was the giant looming over her.

A scream tore from her throat at once. Every one of her instincts told her the same thing - _run, and don't look back._

But she _couldn't._

Missy thrashed around, screeching frantically, but her attempts were futile. She was bound tight; the only thing struggling caused was rope burns.

Grunting, the giant pinned her to the mattress.

_Wait, _Missy realized, _mattress?_

Then it dawned upon her - she was restrained in his bedroom.

Missy let out a pitiful wail as his grubby hands roamed around her body. Her dark hair had become loose somewhere between fighting off her kidnapper and trying up free herself from this new trap, now fanning out from behind her head.

She cried out as he tore off her jacket, his awful face dangerously close to her own. He was even more hideous than the first one - far more so, even - with cold green-gray eyes, patchy hair, and Frankenstein-monster-like features. His skin felt unnaturally clammy against her own.

_"No!"_ Missy screamed, pounding on his chest. It felt as if she were punching bricks and did about as much good.

The thing ignored her protests entirely. "You give me baby," he panted, mucus oozing from his mouth and onto Missy's face.

The scream she let out next was downright _feral,_ frightening even Missy herself.

"Um... sir?"

Both of them froze on the spot, with Missy cowering before her rapist-to-be, who'd just finished yanking her pants off.

This new vice was different. Not almost-normal, like the man who'd taken her down here, or guttural, like the disgusting beast who obviously planned to impregnate her, but rather... nasally.

As if in slow motion, the large mutant on top of her turned for head towards the doorway, speaking through clenched teeth. "Fuck off Grabber. I'm busy."

Missy shuddered at the sound of his voice, the urge to vomit nearly overwhelming her. His grip had not loosened in the slightest, and he didn't seem at all embarrassed to be caught in this position.

Squinting, she could see a short figure in the doorway. Bald, like the first one, and bespectacled.

And facing the wrong way.

"I understand, sir." Listening to the respect in his tone, it occurred to her that this 'sir' must be the mutants' leader. "But... er... this has to do with the women."

'Sir' stiffened, his grip on Missy so tight that she was beginning to suffer from pins and needles. "What ya mean?" he barked, spit flying from his mouth. Missy held back a gag. "If Chameleon sent you here to whine, Grabber, I swear on my mama's grave..."

_Chameleon?_ Missy recalled the long-tongued man, the one who blended into the desert surroundings. She was certain that this 'Chameleon' had to be him. From what she could remember, the leader had taken her away from him. _They must compete for the right to breed. _Her stomach turned at the notion. _Or maybe the guy on top of me is the only one allowed to do it._

The one thing Missy was sure of was the fact she despised these mutants and everything they stood for.

Grabber shook his head quickly.

"Other way, you stupid shit." The leader sounded almost bored, but Grabber whirled around immediately.

"Letch," he said automatically. "Letch got his hands on one of 'em."

Missy's blood ran cold. _Amber._

The apparent alpha male, at long last, released Missy's wrists. She almost sagged with relief, but wouldn't allow herself to show weakness. "Which one?" he demanded. "The blonde or the one with the fat ass?"

_Stump. _Missy hadn't even considered the other girl, but hearing her referred to in such crude terms set her teeth on edge. _You're one to talk,_ she added silently, eyeing his gut.

"The second one." Grabber wrung his hands out in front of him. His behaviour caused Missy to suspect that the asshole in charge treated his minions no better than the women they tortured.

The leader set his jaw and removed himself from Missy, who was beyond glad. His stench was making her light-headed. "Where are they?"

"Letch's room, I think."

"You're dismissed, Grabber," the paunchy mutant said curtly. The smaller of the two departed at once, disappearing down the passageway.

As soon as his footsteps faded, the leader drew himself to his full height, resting his glare on Missy. She stared right back, hoping she appeared defiant rather than terrified. After all, there was nothing stopping him from...

She couldn't even finish the thought.

"Don't think you gettin' off easy," the giant said, leering at her. Even Chameleon and his freakish tongue hadn't made Missy feel so violated. It didn't help that she was in nothing but a tattered tank top and underwear at this point. "I'll be back."

He slammed the door with so much force that the room shook.

Missy lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Only when it dawned upon her that it was Grabber's intervention that saved her from a fate worse than death - and nothing else - did she allow the tears escape.

* * *

**A/N: First third-person chapter! With more to come in the future. :) Like I said, the majority of this story will be told from Stump's POV, but she can't be present during every single scene. Not only this, there are certain plot points that need to be developed that don't involve Stump - if the entire story was told from her perspective, then certain things would seem a bit... out of the blue. Hopefully my rambling will make more sense later on, haha. But there is a reason I'm doing this.**

**I return to school on Tuesday - for my senior year, may I add - so I don't know how that will affect updates. Not that a lot of people are reading this fic, but whatever. The people who did bother give this story a chance, you're awesome and I am forever grateful that you did. XD In case anyone's wondering, yes, I'm pretty much moved into my new house. The only downside is that my Internet plan doesn't have as many GB as my previous one, and if I go over the limit then I'm pretty much screwed...**

**Anyway, this chapter did follow the movie somewhat, and as a result, wound up quite dark. I do plan on raising the rating at some point (this chapter itself may warrant an M rating), after all.**

**Long author's note is long. Hope you liked!**


	8. The Alliance

_**Winds of Change**_

_**By Berry's Ambitions**_

_**Chapter 7: The Alliance**_

**A/N: I am so freaking sorry! I know it's been almost two months since I updated. It seems as if time has not been on my side lately. :( School, searching for a college, job-hunting, Halloween preparation, working on other projects... But yeah. I can't apologize enough. I promise I'll at least try to update more frequently from now on, because I do have a good idea where I'm going with this story.**

**Anyway, more third-person POV, but for good reason. All these seperate storylines will connect soon enough, and next chapter we'll finally go back to Stump. :)**

**This chapter turned out quite a bit longer than I planned, but oh well. I guess that'll make up for the hiatus. I'm a bit iffy about this one and hope that the characters' behaviour and decisions won't be too hard to believe. If that's the case, then I apologize and would love to know how to fix that.**

**Also: I'm going to eventually do some minor revisions, at some point, on the previously-posted chapters. Nothing major, just correcting typos, adding dialogue and other stuff I accidentally forgot to include, maybe add a bit more consistancy to Stump's character... that kind of thing. For those who've read _Abducted_, I plan on doing some revisions to that as well.**

**Okay, on with the story!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own _The Hills Have Eyes_.**

**WARNING: Violence and language.**

* * *

He sighed, resting his chin in his palm.

_Wonder how hard I hit her._

Letch reflected momentarily on that statement.

_Wonder why the hell I care._

But the thing was... he really didn't. Not about her or anyone else, save maybe Cham and Hansel. He'd been taught that caring was a weakness. A disadvantage. And to an extent Letch believed it.

_So why did I let her off so easy?_

He didn't want to know. Or rather, he couldn't allow himself to go there. Now was the worst possible time to do so.

Letch watched the rise and fall of the girl's chest. Listened to her steady breathing and the melodic dripping of the water. _Dumb bitch,_ he mused, _goin' off by herself like that. Who the fuck she think she was?_ This had to be the worst group of soldiers Letch had ever encountered. Not that he'd seen many, but still. Idiots, the lot of them. Letch had more sense when he was a five-year-old...

He rubbed his forehead. Not only had he wound up with a more exciting, challenging hunt, but a lovely prize as well.

So why was he unhappy?

* * *

"You sure she's this way?"

Amber sighed. She'd lost track of how many times he'd asked that. "Yes, Napoleon," the blonde answered curtly. "We both heard her screams." It was a memory that chilled her. The thought of what could be happening to her best friend at this very moment.

_No,_ Amber told herself. _Do not go there. You can't allow yourself to go there._

And then she heard it.

That noise. That inhuman _growl._ The one that had startled her shortly before she was jumped at camp. It was followed this time, however, by the sound of feet hitting the floor.

Napoleon immediately shined his flashlight in the direction it originated from. As they continued advancing towards the noise, Amber sighed. Earlier she'd been wondering how far away her breaking point was.

Now, she was wondering exactly how soon it would happen.

Pulling out her own flashlight, Amber strained her ears. She could hear the buzzing from the lantern on the wall, but not much else.

She could feel Napoleon trembling beside her. Amber wasn't sure if she should take comfort in the fact he was as afraid as she was, or worried that there wasn't a level head in sight. _If only Delmar were still here..._

By chance, she glanced at the floor.

Slowly, the slender trainee bent down, gingerly taking hold of her discovery.

To say it was jarring would be an understatement.

Amber held it up to Napoleon. "Shit," she cursed, her anxiety getting the best of her. "Stump's headband."

"What?"

She suspected that they had come to the same horrendous conclusion.

The two had locked eyes just as another growl echoed through the mines. Amber barely even looked up when a flying object hit her in the face.

Fortunately, it was soft and fell to the ground on impact.

Napoleon shined his light on it once more.

A green floral handkerchief, speckled with blood.

"Oh, shit!" Amber squeaked. Her eyes stung with tears, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

It appeared that these monsters had claimed another hostage.

Amber stared at the handkerchief in disbelief, starting to shake. She wasn't aware that she was whimpering until Napoleon shushed her.

There air was then filled by shrill, high-pitched noise. _There are bats down here too?_ she thought scathingly. _The only thing missing at this point is flesh-eating bacteria._

When Amber recovered from her initial shock, she saw that Napoleon was slowly moving forward once more, prepared to shoot. "Where is he?" he murmured.

It only took her a second to point the enemy out. _"There!"_

Napoleon pulled the trigger and Amber held her breath.

The figure scampered by once again.

_"There!"_

The bullet clattered uselessly onto the floor.

Amber took another deep, quivering breath. Why was this mutant so hard to track?

This pause was longer than the last two. Amber swallowed hard, practically clinging to Napoleon as the shots rang out. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six-

"Hey!" The voice sounded male and extremely pissed.

"Gotcha," Napoleon muttered.

Amber's eyes felt ready to pop out as the creature revealed himself. It was as he was _made_ of rocks, literally separating himself from the wall. Had it not been for the small wound on his right shoulder blade, she wouldn't have known he was there.

But when Napoleon pulled the trigger again, it made a clicking sound.

Amber stared at him. Napoleon stared at his rifle.

With a wild yell, the thing charged, body-checking her comrade with enough force to send him flying. Without missing a beat, the man scooped Amber up in his arms and began walking away with her, completely non-chalant. He paid no attention to her terrified scream.

Amber didn't need to have military training to decide her next move. She dug her nails into his temple, piercing flesh.

He screamed immediately, halting, but Amber was relentless, feeling blood splatter onto her fingertips.

However, the guy was as resilient as she was relentless, grabbing hold of her windpipe. She threw back her head, trying to wrench herself free, but her attempt was futile. He squeezed harder, trying to cut off her circulation. Amber could feel his other fist grabbed her hair.

_"MIIIIINE!"_

Napoleon appeared out of nowhere, bringing the freak down with a large rock to the head. Both the mutant and Amber went sprawling backwards.

After she was finished coughing and choking, Napoleon had raised the stone over his head, preparing the dash the rock-man's brains out.

Years later, Amber still wondered what led her to do what she did next.

"Napoleon, _stop!"_

The other soldier halted, still gripping the object in his hands. "What?" His panic and befuddlement were obvious.

Amber rose to her feet. "Because we need him." She truly hated herself for making this decision, but it was a last resort.

Napoleon gawked at her. "You're kidding me, right?" he demanded. "Are you aware what this guy was about to do to you?"

_Don't remind me._ "You saw Stump's headband," Amber insisted. "She's down here, Napoleon. They must've taken her after she left the group."

Napoleon continued eyeing the mutant before them, though Amber suspected he wouldn't be getting up any time soon. "I don't see with this has to do with _him."_

"He might know something. He might even be able to lead us to Missy."

Napoleon still didn't appear convinced.

"Please," Amber begged. "What choice do we have?" At this point, they couldn't even assume that Delmar and Crank were still alive.

Napoleon gazed for some time at the mutant, who returned it with defiance.

"Okay," Napoleon said at last. He dropped the rock and, not without reluctance, nudged the guy in the ribs. He grunted in response.

"Hey, you hear all that?" Napoleon loomed over him - or at least, that's what Amber assumed he was trying to do. "You're gonna help us."

The mutant, with great effort, sat up. Amber wondered if she was imagining his wooziness. Despite that, the cave dweller's lips were drawn back, as if in preparation to snarl. "Give me one good reason why I should," he hissed. The man's voice was surprisingly human, a strange contrast to his bizarre appearance. "And one reason why I shouldn't rip you _both_ apart." He fixed his deadly blue eyes on Amber; it took all her willpower not to back away from him.

That was when it occurred to the young woman that the mutant was in rougher shake than they were. There were the deep claw marks from Amber on his right temple, a bump forming on his head from where Napoleon had struck him, a purple bruise on one of his cheeks, and crusted blood on the side of his mouth. The man was also clutching his shoulder where he'd been shot.

There was a threat, alright. And it wasn't him.

"Because if you help us-" Amber could hardly believe that this icy tone belonged to her. "-we won't kill you."

The mutant gave her a look of undisguised contempt. "I don't believe you," he spat. "The minute I turn my back..."

"You can trust that we won't." Napoleon spoke as if the words physically pained him. "If we wanted you gone, you would've been. Not even five minutes ago."

A crooked half-smile appeared on the man's face. "Oh, I get it. You don't care twice about whether or not I live or die in the end. For now, though, you need me."

"Exactly." Amber planted her hands on her hips, trying to conceal her bewilderment. Was she honestly _conversing_ with this psycho? How many innocent people died at his hands? How many of those people were her friends? The very sight of her caused her blood pressure to rise. He'd been prepared to _rape_ her, for Christ's sake! Just like he'd probably done to countless other women.

The guy sighed, rubbing his head. "What exactly do you want to know?" he asked, sounding tired, resigned and longing to be anywhere but there.

Amber wasted no time. "Where are Missy and Stump?"

"I'm afraid I don't know whom you're referring to," the man stated dryly.

Another thing that boggled Amber's mind was how _well-spoken_ this monstrosity was. He'd been raised in a disgusting cave by equally vile people. How the hell did he get educated in the first place?

She reminded herself that she didn't care.

"The other girls." It was Napoleon who answered. "Stump's the smaller one, and Missy's Hispanic."

After a moment of pondering, the mutant gave his response. "Our leader has... Missy." He uttered the last word with great venom in his tone. Amber began to suspect that this particular mutant was the one who'd taken her down in the first place, and that it hadn't ended well on his behalf. "And I believe my brother has Stump. But I wouldn't waste your time trying to rescue this Missy girl."

Amber felt as if she'd just swallowed a boulder. "W-what do you mean?"

The mutant, with wobbly legs, stood. It was only then that Amber noticed how tall he was, even more so than Napoleon. "Our leader is the only one allowed to breed with the females." He spoke dismissively, as if he couldn't even be bothered. "Missy's womb will have been claimed by now."

That did it.

Amber lunged at him immediately, letting out an enraged bellow. Luckily for the mutant, Napoleon's reflexes were fast, and he was able to grab hold of the girl before she inflicted any damage. The mutant stepped back, expression impassive.

"YOU'RE _SICK!"_ she screamed, struggling against Napoleon's grip, ignoring his pleas. "YOU'RE _FUCKING SICK!"_

Her head literally pounded and Amber swore she was seeing red. She couldn't believe this. She didn't want to believe it.

Because of his actions, Missy had lost all her rights and was nothing more than an object. A... a _baby farm._

She wanted to kill him then and there.

But the mutant didn't even flinch, his blue eyes boring into her own. "I'm not the one who made that rule," he informed her, an edge of exasperation creeping into his voice. "I didn't say I agree with it, either."

Amber froze, his words sinking in and the angry haze fading. Napoleon took the opportunity to speak to the other man. "If you disagree," he demanded, "then why do you just stand there and let it happen?"

"Because no one disobeys our leader," the other man said simply. "Not mutants like me, not humans like you. Not men, not women. _No one."_ For the first time, Amber sensed a tremor in his voice. "Unless, of course, you don't value your life."

Finally, Amber allowed her arms to go slack, and Napoleon released her. Did she still feel nauseous? Of course. Was she beginning to understand where this guy was coming from? Maybe.

She didn't completely trust him, or even like him. How could she, after all?

But she was willing to reason. She was willing to listen.

"Please." The words caught in her throat. "We... we need help."

His shoulders tensed as if on their own accord.

Amber stepped forward. "Just tell us how to save our friends," she whispered. "And then... then maybe we'll try to... deal with this leader of yours."

He didn't move a muscle. Amber could feel Napoleon's gaze boring into her back similarly to how the mutant's had been, not too long ago.

"I'll help," he said at long last. Amber peered up at him. His expression was one of steely determination. "Not because you're forcing me, but because I've stood by and let this happen for too long now."

Napoleon opened his mouth.

"Frankly I don't care if you believe me or not," the mutant shrugged. "I don't care if you want me here. I've had it with Hades. And I'm gonna make sure he gets put down... even if that means aligning myself with a couple of humans."

Amber chose to ignore the insult. She was shocked - and quite honestly thrilled - by this turn of events. "You really mean it?"

"Why does that matter to you?" he snapped. "You wanted my assistance and you've got it. There's nothing more to be discussed." He turned his back to the pair. "I know someone who can help. His name is Hansel, and he lives away from the rest of our clan." As if sensing their doubt, he added pointedly, "Relax. Hansel's far more domesticated than the rest of us."

Amber exchanged a glance with Napoleon, who was clearly no more reassured than she was.

But what choice did they have?

As they began to follow their mysterious new guide, a million thoughts prodded at Amber. The mutant's motives. Missy's fate. Stump's safety. Crank and Delmar. Whether or any of them would ever make it home again.

The very concept of facing this 'Hades' frightened her.

_I mean, if someone like this guy fears him... and he has Missy..._

_No._

She'd spent the entire day slowly breaking down, piece by piece. She'd been right there when Mickey had died. She'd tried to save him, and she'd failed. There'd been so much going on for her that she simply lost it. She'd felt helpless, control of her life completely slipping from her grasp and into that of the mutants.

And then the other girls was taken, leaving Amber, quite literally, the last woman standing.

She made up her mind then.

They were going to fight back.

They were going to find Missy and Stump, they were going to save them, and they were all going to survive.

Amber remembered the steely resolve on the mutant's face. The utter certainty of the tone he'd used when he'd decided to join them on his own terms.

Perhaps his change of heart wasn't so difficult to understand after all.

"What's your name?" she found herself asking.

The mutant stopped in his tracks. When he turned to look at her, she saw that his expression was one of bewilderment. "Why does it matter?" he asked suspiciously. Even Napoleon was giving her an odd look.

"We have to call you something, right?"

A long pause.

"Chameleon," the mutant answered finally. "Just Chameleon."

Then he continued walking, as if the conversation had never happened at all.


	9. The Hostage

_**Winds of Change**_

_**By Berry's Ambitions**_

_**Chapter 8: The Hostage**_

**A/N: I did it again. I'm sorry. I really don't intend to wait months before updating this. It just sort of... happened. DX My apologies, because I do enjoy writing this fic and have no plans to abandon it.**

**Thank you so much to those who've reviewed, followed, favourited, or are reading this period! I don't know what I'd do without you. :)**

**Finally, we're back to Stump and Letch! I hope this is worth the wait!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own _The Hills Have Eyes_.**

**WARNING: Language, violence, and disturbing/sexual content.**

* * *

When I awoke, my first assumption was that it was a hangover.

I mean, I had all the symptoms. My skull felt like someone had taken an axe to it, I was ready to barf, my heart was pounding, I ached all over and I hadn't the damnedest clue where I was.

I braced myself as I opened my eyes.

Through blurred vision, I saw a figure at the edge of a bed.

_Whoa._ That alarmed me. _Bed? What the hell was I up to?_

I blinked a few more times, trying to clear my vision, trying to jog my memory.

No, I hadn't been partying. I'd been training with my unit. We were in the desert, and we were being picked off one by one...

I sat up so fast that the world begin spinning, my stomach and head screaming in protest.

I remembered everything.

Missy. They took Missy. My friends went down to the mines to find her, but I had been too chicken-shit to follow them...

And... that _thing_ attacked me.

Instincts kicked in - run. Fast.

Gasping, I lurched forward, only to be stopped by what felt like an invisible force.

Only it wasn't.

It wasn't until then did I realize that my arms were bound above my head. The same applied to my ankles.

That fucking sicko had tied me to this bed.

"Hey, bitch."

I seized up, breaking out in a sweat instantly.

The voice was rough, kind of gravelly and, above all, irritated. It came from the guy in front of me.

"That's right, I'm talkin' to you. Scream and I slit your throat. Got it?"

Oh God. Oh God. I was about to be raped by this thing. I was going to be raped and enslaved for the rest of my life.

Did training cover this?

But instead of trying to remember what to do, or even mouthing off, I just sat there. I could only imagine how stupid and weak I must have looked.

The guy sighed and reached for something in his pocket. My breathing became shallow once more. _He's going for the knife, he's going for the knife, he's going for the knife -_

Instead he pulled out a flask and began unscrewing the cap.

Now I was just befuddled.

The mutant held the bottle up to my face. "Drink," he commanded.

I shrank back. No way in hell I was taking anything this creep offered me.

He scowled at me. Or at least, that's what I assume he was doing. Everything was still fuzzy. "You wanna shrivel up and die?"

I shook my head rapidly.

"Then _drink."_

I realized that he wasn't giving me a choice. Only when I ran my tongue across my lower lip did I realize that he hadn't been joking. I really _was_ starting to shrivel up.

Maybe he was on to something.

He unscrewed the cap and I opened my mouth, tilting my head back so I wouldn't choke. Only when the water touched my tongue did I realize that I hadn't been thirsty - I was outright dehydrated.

This asshole had more or less saved my life.

Anyway, it was probably the best water I ever had for the reason alone. The more I drank, the better I felt. My vision was clearing; as was my mind.

When I began to consider exactly _why_ he was keeping my alive, I didn't feel quite so grateful anymore.

The mutant pulled the flask away after I'd finished draining it. Now I could really study him for the first time. We shared similar blue-green eyes, but the resemblance ended there. He was a big bald guy, muscular but lanky, and covered in those freaky growths - tumors, maybe? Warts? Either way... gross. He was wearing the same army hat from when he first attacked me.

When he attacked me.

I remembered it then.

He'd been prepared to have his way with me... and he'd stopped.

_Why?_

I glanced around the rest of the room. It was fucking dirty to say the least, and I could see weapons mounted on the wall across from us - spears, pick-axes, machetes, cleavers, knives... and three rifles. I recalled Amber telling me how hers had been stolen, along with Napoleon's. The other one had to be mine.

On my left was a bedside table with miscellaneous objects on it. The room was illuminated by a flickering old lantern on the wall above the table. In the right corner, past the mutant, was a random trunk. I didn't even want to know what was in_ there._

"You in shock?"

I snapped my head upwards and immediately was rewarded by another round of sickening dizziness. The man was staring at me, eyebrows raised. If he had any eyebrows, that is. I could see his lips twitching in what I assumed was amusement, and he was switching the empty flask from hand to hand. Irritation overrode my confusion and terror. Who did this jackass think he was?

"You wish," I scoffed. Okay, probably not my best comeback, but there was no way in _hell_ I was letting some backwoods country fuck get the better of me. Even if he happened to be a backwoods country fuck with an arsenal worthy of Rambo.

_Rambo..._ Had it really been just this morning that I'd been joking around with my teammates?

_Teammates that this monster helped kill._

He grinned at me, revealing a mouth full of jagged teeth. My orthodontist would've had a field day with him. "Sassy," he commented, leaning back in his chair. If I could have kneed him in the balls at that point, I would have. "I like that."

I glowered at him. _What a fucking pig._ "Keep me tied to this bed much longer and then we'll see how much you like me."

The mutant threw back his head and laughed, my blood pressure rising simultaneously. I suspected I'd still hate this jerk-off even if he _wasn't_ a threat. "Aww, how cute. You tryin' to talk tough." Then he narrowed his eyes into slits. "Great way to thank someone who just saved your sorry life."

Now it was my turn to laugh. "Please. You really think I wanted you to save me? I know all about what you sick fucks do down here to people like me." Despite my bravado, the memory of the colonel's warning made me feel chilly. Which was odd, considering the fact it was unbearably hot and stuffy down here.

The mutant eyed me, as if curious. "I'm guessin' that Redding told ya?"

Redding. Right. I'd forgotten his name. "He told us everything," I lied, lifting my chin. "Which is exactly why it's a bad idea for you and the rest of your inbred family to keep me here."

He looked amused now. "If you knew everything, you'd know we ain't inbred," the man informed me, finally setting the flask down on the bedside table. It occurred to me then that I probably _could_ get out of here... I just had to know how to do it. This concept relaxed me, if only a little.

"And you'd also know that there's no way you gettin' out," the mutant added smugly. My temporary relaxation faded. "We ain't stupid, sugar-tits."

"Sugar-tits?" I repeated, seething now. "Oh, like I haven't heard _that_ one before." I'd been waiting for this. Eyes on my chest, a snide remark, occasionally both. He'd made a big mistake. I was out for blood now. "Tell me this, then, _casanova._ If you're so eager to get at my tits -" I shoved out my chest to emphasize what I was saying. His jaw dropped for half a second. "- then why haven't you done it already, huh?" I stared at him challengingly. "What stopped you from doing that when you found me? Because right now, I feel like you're only talkin' big to make up for little things."

The last sentence was barely out of my mouth when the guy pinned me to the bed. His nose was pressing against mine, and I could see that his eyes had become wild. Rabid. Feral.

I'd forgotten who - _what_ - I'd been speaking to.

"Do _not,"_ he snarled, grabbing a fistful of my hair, "push it."

I could only stare at him, breaking out in a cold sweat once more. _Don't piss him off, Stump,_ I advised myself, trying not to loose my cool. _You're lucky he hasn't killed you yet... or worse._

_Unless you've just gone and changed his mind. Wouldn't be the first time you broke something that didn't need to be fixed._

"You push me..." He began running a hand up and down my thigh. I inhaled sharply and shuddered despite myself. "...well, you won't like the results."

_Think Stump, think. What would Missy do?_

_Missy!_ In my own panic I'd forgotten all about her. I hoped she was better off than I was. I wanted to believe that the others had found her - or, better yet, she'd gotten away on her own. She was certainly capable of it.

"Where are my friends?" I blurted. Fun fact about me - while in the uterus, my mental filter hadn't developed. Oh well. Too late to stop now.

He withdrew his hand, brow crinkling. "Your friends?" he repeated slowly.

"Where's Missy?" I pressed. "The girl who was taken."

I sent silent praise to the Lord as the mutant pulled away from me at least, taking his seat. "Missy, huh?" He sounded amused again. "And you're called?"

"Stump," I responded automatically. "You gonna answer my question or what?"

"Like the tree?" There came the grin again. "Were your parents on some'in when they named ya?"

"Stump's not my real name, you dick!" I exploded, temporarily forgetting about Missy again. "Like yours is any better!"

"Not really," the mutant said, a ring of truth to his tone. "It's Letch."

"Letch as in lecherous?" I gawked at him. "Dude, you do know what that means, right?"

"Sometimes I wonder if my pa was high when he named me," reflected the apparent Letch. "Wouldn't put it past the crazy old dog."

I shook my head. We were getting way, way off-topic. "So where are my friends?" I demanded. I realized that maybe Letch wasn't aware that the others had gone down here to look for Missy. I couldn't give them away. "Did you take Missy? Where is she?"

Letch held up a hand. "Whoa, little lady. One thing at a time." He acted as if our little confrontation had never happened. Was he bipolar? And furthermore, why had he gotten so freaking mad when I brought up the fact he hasn't jumped all over me yet? Or was he simply defending his manhood? Nothing made sense.

_Not that it matters, considering the fact I'll get myself outta here. Somehow._

"Chameleon took Missy," Letch explained.

"Chameleon? Do you guys have some sorta weird naming trend down here or what?"

"I don't know, ask Hades!" Letch snapped. "Yeah, he took her down here because just lookin' at that girl made him hornier than a bitch in heat."

I bristled. "Tell Chameleon to keep it in his pants. Missy's not interested."

Letch studied me for a moment. "You're a weird one," he declared.

"Why? Because I speak the truth?" I was absolutely fed up now. I was confused and furious and scared and I wanted to go home. I wanted my friends back.

I should have never left them in the first place.

"I guess that's one way of puttin' it, yeah."

We stared at each other for a long moment.

"We know your friends are down here lookin' for Missy... and probably you."

I stared at my bound hands, feeling more miserable and devoid of hope with each passing second. "Figured as much."

_How many of them are even left? How am I going to get away?_

I spoke the next question aloud.

"Am I gonna be used for breeding?"

Letch tilted his head. "Don't know," he murmured, appearing genuinely thoughtful for the first time.

"If you weren't going to do that to me, why'd you take me in the first place? What's going to happen to Missy?"

Letch sighed, leaning forward. The cockiness was gone now. "I really don't know, girl. Cham, well... he really is batshit about your friend. Don't know why. Seems convinced she can make all his problems go away. Me, I think he just needs somethin' to distract himself from Hades."

"Hades." I frowned, the pieces beginning to fit together. "Is he your dad?"

Letch's expression darkened. "Would hardly call him _that."_

I sat up as much as the restraints would allow. Things were starting to make sense now. "Hades is the one making you do this," I said. "Right?"

Letch didn't reply. Didn't even look at me.

"Do you even like what your family is doing?"

It had never crossed my mind that these things were anything remotely similar to us. I didn't consider the fact they could think, or rationalize, or even feel.

I almost wished they _were_ mindless drones. It would make everything a hell of a lot simpler.

"I don't want your pity," Letch spat. "Don't you dare start feelin' sorry for us. I can tell you exactly how many of your friends I killed. I could tell you I enjoyed it, too."

"Have you raped anyone?" I challenged. The words felt ugly on my tongue. "Has... has this Chameleon guy raped anyone? Knocked any innocent girls up?"

"I said _don't,_ bitch."

"Or what?"

I never did find out what 'what' was, because all of a sudden the door decided to swing open.

I looked at Letch first. His reaction alone should have my nerves into a frenzy. Rigid muscles, eyes huge with fright.

My first thought was, _What could Letch possibly be afraid of?_

The second one followed almost immediately. _Something would scare me twice as bad._

Gulping, I followed his gaze.

There, looming in the doorway with his arms crossed, was possibly the ugliest creature I ever had the displeasure of sharing oxygen with.

Seriously. He made Letch look like Johnny Depp.

_Hades._

The sickening, dizzy sensation from when I first woke up threatened to overtake me again.

"Letch." He spat the word out like a curse. Had I not known Letch's name, I probably wouldn't have understood what he'd said. His voice was that gruff.

No, not gruff. I think the word 'bestial' would be more appropriate. 'Gutteral'. Or better yet, 'assault on Stump's eardrums'.

Letch got to his feet, albeit very stiffly, facial expression changing from fearful to stony as he did. Looking from him to Hades, I realized that he wasn't nearly as tall as I'd originally thought. Five-eleven, maybe? As for Hades, my estimation was at least six-four, though his muscles made him seem even huger.

"Yeah, Papa?" I watched Letch's fists clench and unclench as he spoke. It occurred to me then that he not only feared his father, but held resentment - possibly even hatred - for him.

I seconded that notion.

"You took her" - Hades pointed one dirty finger in my direction, and it took all my strength not to visibly wince - "without tellin' me." His nostrils flared as he began advancing towards Letch.

Letch was braver than I would've been, standing his ground rather than stumbling backwards. "There are other girls here." His voice rang out through the mines, challenging and defiant. I blinked in spite of myself. "Ya only need one!"

With a roar that made my ears pop, Hades shoved Letch backwards. I expected him to hit the floor, but the mutant went flying straight into the wall, right next to the bed where I was. A sickening crack rang out as his skull connected with the wall, sending Letch crumpling onto the floor. I bit my tongue at the last second to stop myself from screaming, filling my mouth with blood in the process.

All I could do was watch, helpless, as Hades leaned over and grabbed the still conscious Letch by the throat, hoisting him upwards so he could look at his son right in the eyes. "YOU KNOW THE RULES, YOU LITTLE _SHIT!"_ Hades snarled, giving the smaller hill dweller a violent shake. This time, Letch's head lolled backwards, and I was suddenly consumed with irrational fear for his safety.

_Wait, what?!_ A little jolt of alarm rang through my body. _Why should I care about him? He's the one who got me into this mess!_

_No,_ a little voice in my head corrected. _If you hadn't wandered off by yourself, **none** of this would have happened._

"I! GET! FIRST! DIBS!" Hades screamed. He abruptly dropped Letch to the ground again, but my relief was only temporary. Hades was glaring at me _now. _The wild look in Letch's eyes from earlier seemed kitten-like compared to this. "You hear me, you little whore?" he breathed, getting so close to me that I almost passed out. "You're _mine." _

What happened next was, hands down,_ the_ worst experience of my nineteen years of life.

Hades grabbed my cheeks with those filthy hands of his - hard enough to bruise, may I add - and_ kissed_ me.

I never thought a kiss could be violent, but Hades proved me wrong that day. I literally gagged, bile rising at the back of my throat. Not only did he kiss me, but he forced his vile excuse of a tongue into my mouth as well. It was slimy and horrible and he tasted like _I don't even know._

By the time he pulled away, I'd completely broken down, screaming and sobbing and trying desperately not to throw up.

I am not exaggerating when I tell you that, in that moment, I was truly wishing for death.

Hades leaned back and watched us for a while - me bawling like an infant and making bargains with God, Letch lying in a broken, twitching heap on the floor. Admiring his handiwork, perhaps. I really don't want to know.

When Hades finally sauntered off, it offered no consolation whatsoever. He'd go hurt somebody else, after all - maybe a member of his clan, maybe one of my own friends. Assuming he hadn't dealt with them already.

Besides, he'd come back for me eventually. He'd made that perfectly clear.

It was only when I remembered Letch that I was able to pull myself halfway back together.

The only sign of visible sign of life he displayed, from what I could see, was the unsteady rise and fall of his back.

I shouldn't have cared. Not about him. Not after what he had done, regardless of his reasoning behind it.

But considering the fact it was the idea of getting both of us out of here alive that reignited the spark of determination in me, I decided not to question it. At least for now.


	10. Army of Me

_**Winds of Change**_

_**By Berry's Ambitions**_

_**Chapter 9: Army of Me**_

**A/N: New chapter! There's a lot of school-related stuff going on right now (exams, college appliations, etc) so I don't know when the next update will be. I will, however, try my best to be quicker than I've been the past several months **

**Here we get a much more introspective look at Chameleon, as well as the introduction of his POV. Hope you all like this! :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own _The Hills Have Eyes_.**

**WARNING: Language and menace.**

* * *

Chameleon was having a fucking awful day.

First off, he'd gotten his ass handed back to him by someone less than half his size. And this someone just _had_ to the most attractive woman he'd ever seen in his thirty-five years of life. His balls were still smarting.

Then, to add insult to injury, Hades had to storm in and snatch the girl away like he always did. The very thought of what was happening to her right now made Chameleon not only physically sick, but more furious than he'd been in a long time.

As if that wasn't horrendous enough, Chameleon - who had been defending himself his entire life - had lost a fight to a pair of clueless army enlistees. He'd been almost killed in less than a minute and these children didn't even have any _bullets_ left.

Yet here he was, guiding them through the place he had been born and raised. Preparing to betray the only leader he'd ever known.

Chameleon kept his eyes straight ahead of him, feeling mistrust and resentment coming off the humans in waves. He didn't care for them much himself, but he still couldn't help feeling a begrudgingly sense of gratitude towards them regardless. They could have killed him on the spot, after all. It was only the intervention of the blonde woman, Amber, that had spared him from a gruesome demise. Her reasoning had been selfish, but Chameleon, having been reared by a selfish man, was used to this sort of behaviour from people.

Although he had to admit he enjoyed shoving these particular people through Hansel's trap door.

Chameleon slid inside as quietly as he could, shutting the hatch behind him. The second he turned around, the hill dweller was faced with a pair of asymmetrical blue eyes, the colour of which eerily similar to his own.

"What you do here?" Hansel stammered, taking a step back.

Chameleon sighed, having anticipated his younger brother to react this way. He gestured to the soldiers, who'd shied away at the sight of Hansel. Napoleon was now gripping his bayonet, prepared to strike. "They need help."

Hansel furrowed his brow, puzzled, but went along with it nonetheless. "Safe here," he assured the humans. "Safe."

"Put the knife away," Chameleon added, authority in his tone. He knew how uncomfortable Hansel felt around weapons. "You won't need it here."

Napoleon exchanged a glance with Amber - an annoying habit that these two shared - but reluctantly followed Chameleon's order.

Hansel was studying Chameleon now, voice giving away the worry he felt. "You hurt."

Chameleon scowled. The last thing he needed was to appear weak in front of these people. "I'm fine," he said sharply. "Leave me alone."

But the younger mutant continued to badger him. "Smell blood." His eyes strayed to the bullet wound on Chameleon's shoulder. "Papa do it?"

"Part of it," Chameleon muttered, hoping that his cheek wasn't starting to swell.

"Papa?" Amber asked anxiously.

"Hades." Chameleon had no reason not to tell them, he supposed. "My father is also our leader. I'm second-in-command."

"What about your brother?" Napoleon wanted to know. "The one who has Stump."

Chameleon squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "You humans are too curious for your own good." But again - he had no reason to withhold information from them at this point. "Letch is... well, like a soldier. He doesn't have any authority amongst us." _Though he might one day,_ Chameleon thought. _One day very soon, even._

Unless the rebellion backfired and got them all killed, of course.

"And what do you do?" Amber was addressing Hansel now, her tone surprisingly gentle.

Hansel mulled it over for a moment. "Stabber teaching me to be doctor."

"Stabber?"

"The man you killed," Chameleon said coldly. Stabber had lived in a separate area of the mines. They rarely interacted, and Chameleon typically kept to himself either way. But despite the fact they'd never been remotely close, Chameleon felt a strange pressure arise in his chest as he remembered his fallen clanmate. "He was our medic, and Hansel's teacher."

The young cadets were oddly quiet.

"Hansel handles food preparation too," Chameleon couldn't help but to add, surprisingly himself when he heard the wryness his tone held. "As for the food itself, well... I think you can figure it out."

Napoleon looked positively green, making the connection. Amber, on the other hand, remained inquisitive. "Who else lives here?"

"Just Grabber now. He's very near-sighted. Has to rely on his sense of smell."

"How well _can_ you smell, exactly?"

"Grabber's nose is the best out of us all," Chameleon shrugged. "His job is to guard the mines and let Hades know what's what."

Amber's brows knitted together in understanding. "But will he help us?"

"I honestly don't know."

Four pairs of heads lifted as the sound registered. Voices. Male. Chameleon did not recognize them.

"Hold it a second." Napoleon headed towards the hatch, opening it as he kneeled on the table. "Crank, Delmar," Chameleon heard him call. "Down here."

Moments later, two human males crawled inside. Chameleon recognized them as two of the other enlistees - the short, hotheaded Latino in his late twenties and the younger, quieter man with dark skin.

"Oh shit," the Latino breathed as Napoleon helped him down. "You guys are alive." The two embraced as the dark-skinned man was assisted onto the ground by Amber. Chameleon noticed their rifles at that point and contemplated ducking for cover with Hansel. The Hispanic one seemed awfully... trigger-happy.

"Hi," Hansel crowed, catching the newcomers' attention. Chameleon tried not to wince as he received a faceful of flashlight.

"The hell are those?" the Latino demanded, sounding stupefied.

"It's okay," Napoleon assured him.

"You outta your goddamn mind? You know what they are."

Amber was quick to jump in. "We need them. They know where Missy and Stump are, and they promised they'd help us put a stop to all this." She didn't have to give Chameleon that look then.

"Stump?" The younger man was visibly concerned.

"We found her headband and neckerchief," Amber explained curtly. "They took her, Delmar."

The other man let out a loud curse. "That was her own damn fault! She was fucking stupid to leave us like that!"

Chameleon understood the Latino's fury. After all, the first rule of survival was to stay with your group while in unfamiliar territory. He couldn't say he felt much pity for Stump, other than thinking how lucky she was to have been found by Letch before anyone else.

"They promised to take us to them," Napoleon insisted, shooting a glance at the mutant brothers.

"Do you have any ammo?" Chameleon asked, deciding that now was the best time to speak up.

The Hispanic soldier gave him a hateful look. "That's none of your goddamn business."

"Crank." Delmar put a hand on his squadmate's shoulder, but the apparent Crank remained tense.

"It'll be much harder to rescue the girls without any ammo," Chameleon informed him, speaking with exaggerated patience. _Morons, the lot of them._

"Well, we do!" Crank snapped. "So you better not be fuckin' with us!"

"Crank!" Delmar put more force into the name this time. "Shut the hell up!"

_At least_ _**someone** has a bit of common sense. Any louder and Hades will be brought right to us._

"How can you even trust them?" Crank gestured to the mutants, this time with his gun.

"Because we have no choice!" Napoleon exclaimed. "I just want to get _everyone_ out of here."

"Oh yeah? Well tell that to Mickey! And Sarge! And Spitter!"

"Crank!" Amber growled, her expression of frustration matching everyone else's in the room (save Hansel, who looked more like a deer in headlights).

Crank glowered up at Chameleon, which was quite comical, given the fact the mutant was a little more than a foot taller than him. "Well? How do we get out of here?"

Amber abruptly stepped between the two men before Chameleon unleashed a rather unsavory comeback. "What about Missy and Stump?" she reminded them sharply.

"Will you get off this shit that they're alive? Missy and Stump are _fucking dead._ Just like we're gonna be if we don't get the _fuck_ out of here!"

"I am _not_ leaving this place without them. Did you not hear what the colonel said?"

"That was bullshit - "

"No, it's not," Chameleon interrupted. All eyes were on him now, but he pushed through his discomfort. "What happens to the women down here..." He let his voice trail off, aware that there was no need to elaborate.

And, okay, maybe he didn't want to talk about it.

Crank looked as if he'd been slapped across the face.

Delmar nodded, light brown eyes grave. "That's why you're helping," he said.

"The idea of breeding came from Hades and Hades alone." Chameleon crossed his arms, feeling somehow awkward under Delmar's gaze. He wasn't used to be looked at this way. With curiousity - perhaps even_ sympathy_ - rather than revulsion or fear.

But last thing Chameleon wanted was anyone feeling sorry for him. The very notion grated his nerves.

Luckily for him, Delmar turned his attention to the others immediately. "Alright. Here's what I say we do." It had become apparent now that Delmar had taken over the role of authority after the sergeant had been killed. Chameleon couldn't say he found it suprising. "We need to get the girls out of there as soon as possible. No question about that. I say we split into two groups. One will track down Missy, the other will go after Stump. Napoleon, Amber - you guys still have ammo?"

"I'm out," Napoleon admitted. "We don't even have our rifles anymore."

"You have bayonets?"

Napoleon nodded.

To Chameleon's growing bewilderment, Delmar turned to him next. "You have anything on you?" He addressed the mutant with the same tone he'd used amongst his comrades. It was jarring.

Chameleon simply shook his head, unable to recall where his knife disappeared to.

"But you know where Missy is."

"I believe so."

"Gotta name?"

"Chameleon. My brother here is Hansel."

"Alright." Delmar handed Amber his gun. "Chameleon, you take Napoleon and Amber to Missy and bring her back here. Crank, Hansel and I are going after Stump. If we don't come back - "

"Wait," Chameleon blurted.

Wonderful. They were all gawking at him again. Commanding his own kind, that was one thing. But these strangers, these humans... he couldn't see himself getting used to being around them, let alone conversing with them. "You need to understand that Stump's captor isn't Hades. None of us are."

"Of_ course_ you aren't."

"Crank," Amber hissed, "just shut up and listen."

"If you tell him that I sent you," Chameleon continued, glaring at Crank out of the corner of his eye, "he won't put up a fight. Make sure he comes back with you."

"And why the fuck is that?" Crank stared at him with accusing eyes.

"None of us like the way Hades is running things," Chameleon explained, trying not to lose what little patience he had left. "Letch will be more than willing to assist us in bringing him down. With Hades dead, you can trust that none of this will happen again."

Now _all_ the soldiers looked at each other.

Chameleon wasn't sure what he was promising, exactly. He had no intention to continue his father's 'tradition' of breeding. The process was futile as well as disgusting. Yes, he had been planning to take this Missy woman as his mate, but he didn't even consider impregnating her. Not a single one of the captives had produced healthy offspring, although Chameleon suspected Hades - the only one 'allowed' to carry out this task - was to blame more so than the women themselves. After all, how could every single one of them have failed to deliver a child that couldn't survive longer than three measly months? It couldn't have been a coincidence. Regardless, Chameleon didn't want to deal with the responsibilities of fatherhood, nor did he want Missy to die in childbirth.

_Missy._

It was strange, now that this mysterious, ethereal woman had a name to go by. He wasn't sure how he felt about her at this point. Now that he was thinking clearly (which was funny, considering the fact he'd been beaned in the head with a large rock), Chameleon could admit to himself that he was embarrassed by his actions - perhaps even a little shameful.

_I promised myself I wouldn't be like **him.**_

He remembered the look of terror on the woman's face. How savagely he'd struck her. How his instincts went into override.

_We're not animals. We shouldn't have to act like this. Things could be different..._

But could they, really? When - _if_ - Hades was killed, the leadership role would fall upon Chameleon himself, and Letch to a lesser extent. The only members of their clan left at this point besides themselves were Hansel and Grabber.

Extinction, one way or another, was almost inevitable.

"Let's just deal with the problems we have right now," Delmar said finally. "After this Hades fucker is dead, then we'll talk."

Chameleon just nodded, unsure what else to say or do. An odd mindset for him to be in, really.

"Where would Hades be now?" Napoleon asked, somewhat hesitantly.

Chameleon paused. There was that odd pressure on his chest again, only this time it was followed by fury.

His expression must have given him away, because Amber said, very quietly, "He's with Missy, isn't he?"

"I don't see why he wouldn't be - "

It was then that the sound started. A sound that caused both Chameleon and Hansel to freeze.

A sound that the brothers were all too familiar with.

The humans must've registered it too, judging by the expressions of fear and disbelief on their faces. Chameleon couldn't blame them. There was only one person - if one could refer to him as such - whose footfall could make_ that_ much noise.

Chameleon fought back the equally familiar shudder that went down his spine; one that often accompanied the alpha male's presence. Before the soldiers could react further, he pressed his index finger to his lips and glared at them.

"Grabber?" Hades barked.

_Grabber?_ Chameleon dug his fingernails into his palm in a vain attempt to calm himself. _Was that bastard listening in on us? _

Following that thought, his anger turned to nausea. He felt furious with himself for not concealing the scent of the humans earlier on.

"Yes sir?" came the meek response.

"What're you doin'? I told ya to look for the damn girl!"

_He must mean Amber._ He shot said girl a look of caution, which went unnoticed. Napoleon was standing awfully close to her, Chameleon noted. A vague notion of why this might be simmered in the back of his mind.

"I was!" Grabber's tone was half-pleading, half-defensive. "I think that she might've found a way to cover her tracks."

Chameleon's heart skipped a beat. Was Grabber_ covering_ for them? No, he couldn't have been. Grabber always sided when Hades - much as they all hated him - to save his own skin. He had no reason to change now.

_Unless..._

Chameleon scolded himself for being ridiculous.

Hades sounded skeptical. "Cover her tracks? How she do that?"

"They are in the army, sir, and were probably taught some sort of tech-"

The sound of flesh hitting flesh caused them all the grimace. Chameleon knew firsthand how that felt, although he'd suffered from far worse in the past.

"They're idiots, remember?" Hades reminded his minion harshly.

"Napoleon, I think I just found someone I like even less than you," Crank murmured.

"They don't gotta clue what they doin'!" Hades went on. "We got the upperhand 'cause it's our turf!" A pause. "Wait." His suspicion was more apparent than ever now. "It's our turf. How do they know where they goin'?"

"I-I don't know, sir..."

"When was the last time you saw Chameleon?" Hades demanded. "Or that wimp of a boy?"

Hansel looked visibly hurt by this comment. Chameleon rolled his eyes. _He's being rather generous compared to what he** could** have said, don't you think?_

Another pause.

"You don't remember, do you?" Within seconds, Hades' growl turned out into a full-out roar, one that made Chameleon's heart begin to pound against his ribcage. "Those little _shits!"_

There was a sound akin to hammering - Hades had sprinted away. (Or he would have, had he been capable of sprinting.)

Another dreadful pause before there was a light rapping on the hatch door. "You two." Grabber's voice was uncharacteristically soft. Chameleon wasn't sure why. Most likely because he didn't want to attract Hades' attention again, or perhaps -_ maybe_ - he felt actual concern for them.

"We're here," Chameleon called back, keeping his voice low.

"Find 'em," Grabber said. Any trace of warmth was gone now. "Find them girls, while there's still time."

Unsure what compelled him to do so, Chameleon leapt onto the table and opened the hatch. Grabber was in mid-step; he paused to stare down at him. "Boy, did you not hear what I just told you? You ain't got much time - "

"Thank you." It wasn't something Chameleon had said in years. He wondered if he was going about it correctly. "Thank you... for what you did for us."

Grabber was silent for a moment. Then: "You won't be thankin' me if Hades gets a hold of ya. Now _go,_ or so help me God - "

Chameleon closed the hatch.

* * *

**A/N: Feedback of any sort would be lovely!**


	11. Basic Allowance

_**Winds of Change**_

_**By Berry's Ambitions**_

_**Chapter 10: Basic Allowance**_

**A/N: Thanks so much to those who reviewed last time! You guys help me stay motivated. :) So sorry for the long wait! I hope this update will make up for it now that we're back to Stump and Letch. I'm still trying to figure out where this story is headed. Anything in particular that my readers/reviewers want to see?**

**Anyway, happy reading!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own _The Hills Have Eyes_.**

**WARNING: Language.**

* * *

I leaned my head against my bound hands, closing my eyes.

I didn't know how much time had passed since Hades left, but by this point I'd developed a nasty case of rope burn and the worst migraine of my life.

I couldn't even imagine how Letch was feeling; he hadn't budged since Hades' attack on him. I'd tried over and over again to rouse him into consciousness - hell, I would have continued my efforts had it not been for the fact I now felt as if I'd swallowed sand paper thanks to the previous ones - but no dice.

"Goddamn door," I said out loud, letting out a slightly hysterical laugh. Its very presence, only a few feet away, mocked me. Escape was so close, so easy... if I could only get out of these _motherfucking_ bounds.

If I did get out, though - a possibility that was looking less possible with every passing second - what would I do? Where would I go? Were my friends still down here?

_Or are they already dead?_

"Think, Stump, think," I muttered, trying to settle my rattled nerves. Psyching myself out was not going to help the matter. I'd been lucky enough to get information out of Letch, so I decided to go over what he'd told me.

Breeding. Okay, so that meant Missy and Amber would be kept alive as well. Missy got caught by Letch's brother what's-his-face. Letch didn't mention anything about Amber, so there was a chance she was still with the guys. Hades was the mastermind behind this whole shitstorm and by the sounds of things, the other mutants didn't like him too much. Probably because he hogged all the vagina...

_Wait a minute._

Hades had thrown a temper tantrum because he'd assumed Letch had 'claimed' me first. So what about Missy and her kidnapper? What would happen to them?

I decided immediately that I didn't want to know.

"Letch," I said hoarsely for what was probably the millionth time, "please, _please_ wake up..."

I knew that it was hopeless at this point, but I didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore - not the fact he was the one who dragged my down here in the first place, not the fact he'd been a willing participant in the slaughter of my friends, not the fact he'd tried to _rape _me and changed his mind out of nowhere.

I wanted_ out of here. _I would never ask for anything else ever again if that meant leaving this godforsaken place.

Why did I want to take him with me? I don't know for sure. Maybe because Letch treated with me with a semblance of humanity - at the cost of his own safety, mind you - and unintentionally helped me realize that these hill dwellers weren't evil so much as desperate. I witnessed what would happen to these mutants if they didn't do what their tyrant told them. I was a soldier - no shit I understood the importance of survival and its cost.

Maybe it was _because_ I was a soldier that I was slowly beginning to understand their motivations. And maybe it was because I was a soldier that I felt the need to help them out.

After all, that's what soldiers are supposed to do. Fight for their people and what they believe in - even if it meant death.

And that - in some warped way - made this clan of mutants soldiers in their own right.

Or perhaps it's my growing delirium talking. Either or.

I looked over at the bedside table. Among its various contents lay what appeared to be a Swiss army knife. Which was absolutely perfect, if I only knew how to free myself from the ropes that kept me stuck to this_ fucking_ bed.

"C'mon, Stump!" I muttered. "You were trained to get out of situations like this! You just gotta think..."

A loud gurgling noise from my stomach interrupted me before I could do just that. _Well, crap,_ I thought, sighing for the upteempth time. Of all the things I'd been worrying over, the possibility of starvation was not one of them. Even these dirty ropes were looking appetizing at this point and wait a minute.

I am an idiot.

If I hadn't felt so weak and sick at the moment in time I would have burst into hysterical laughter. I've been tied for _how_ long now, and it didn't even cross my mind to gnaw my way through these bounds? Wow. This was a new low, even for me.

I studied the ropes for a moment, considering the state of them and where they came from._ What kind of diseases am I risking here by biting into these? _I wondered. I was far from germaphobic, but I'd rather not go up a notch on the idiot scale._  
_

_When Hades comes back, _another side of me rationalized, _who knows **what** will wind up in your mouth?__  
_

I started chewing immediately.

* * *

Twenty minutes.

Within twenty minutes I'd bitten through every fibre of the rope, probably ruining my teeth in the process. My jaw was screaming in protest and I tasted blood and my lips felt like they were on fire, but I did it. I _fucking did it. _I probably would have sobbed with unadulterated joy if I had it in me, or the time.

Since I had neither, I settled on cutting through the rest of the ropes with the Swiss army knife, trying not to stare at the ugly patterns the ropes had embedded into my wrists. I'd been lucky that I hadn't lost circulation - or worse. Every now and then, I'd glance at Letch. _I'm almost there,_ I promised him. _Do me a favour and don't die now, alright?_

I took a moment to stretch my aching limbs, trying to relieve myself of the pins and needles sensation, before slowly getting to my feet. Unsurprisingly, my motions were unsteady and my stomach churned despite the fact it was empty. I inhaled deeply, folding the knife and clutching it for dear life as I made my way towards the fallen mutant, wobbling as I did so.

I kneeled down beside him at last, turning him onto his back. "Can you hear me now?" I asked softly, not really expecting an answer. My eyes landed on his throat, taking in the dark, encompassing bruise that was already beginning to form. Hesitantly I slipped the folded knife into my pocket, supporting Letch's head with one arm as I prepared to check his pulse as I'd been taught in my training. I pressed two fingers to the side of his trachea. Slow and unsteady - not a good sign - but at least the pulse was there.

Desperately I wished for Missy's presence. She would know exactly what to do even _without_ her medical expertise, because that's just the kind of girl she was.

Missy... yet another person who needed saving.

Carefully my fingers rubbed against his spine, testing for serious injuries. It was then I noticed a sudden crease in his brow; my heart leapt into my throat at once.

"Letch?" I asked, speaking as gently as I could. Startling him now would be the worst of ideas, after all. "Are you there?"

He grunted slightly. I exhaled slowly. The fact I was getting a response from him, even a minor one, was a good one indeed. However, that didn't make this any less of an emergency and I had to treat it as such. I placed my hands on both sides of the his head, keeping it in line with his spine and preventing movement.

The mutant let out what I assumed to be a noise of protest, trying to wrench himself away from me._ He must think I'm Hades,_ I realized. "Letch," I said, speaking more loudly this time. "It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you."

His struggling ceased, but Letch's muscles were still rigid with tension. In an effort to calm him, I added, "Do you remember me? I'm Stump."

He murmured something I couldn't make out. _He's disoriented._ I was certain he had a concussion now. "I'm the girl you took," I went on. "And I'm going to help you, okay?"

Letch mumbled something incoherent, but didn't protest. I wasn't sure if I should take this as a good sign or a bad one. "Can you open your eyes?"

He did, only to squeeze them shut immediately.

"What's the matter?"

It took me a minute to figure out what he was saying, but it turned out to be, "Light. Light hurts my eyes."

"You mean that lattern over there?"

"Mm-hm."

Yep. Definitely a concussion. The severity of it, however, was still up for debate. "I'm gonna have to ask you some questions, alright?"

I don't know why, but I got the impression if Letch could have rolled his eyes at me, he would have. "What's today's date?" I asked anyway.

"I... I dunno..."

"Me either," I admitted. Letch snorted under his breath. "Hey, I heard that," I scolded. "Where are you?"

"H-home..."

"That's right. Do you remember what happened to you?"

He shuddered slightly. "You don't have to answer that," I assured him, feeling yet another pang of sympathy that I'm sure Letch would have hated me for. "How old are you?" Naturally, this question was accompanied by genuine curiosity.

"'M... 'm thir'-four."

"Thirty-four?" I repeated, hiking my eyebrows.

"Thirty-four," he confirmed, more clearly now. "An'... m' life is_ shit."_

"Hey now. Don't say that."_ Even if it's probably true. "_Thirty-four's not that old, trust me. I've had _geezers_ hitting on me." I wrinkled my nose at the memory.

"Like... Hades?" Letch sounded amused.

This actually prompted a laugh of me. "Yeah. Like Hades." I touched his ribs and he tensed once more. "I'm just looking for breaks," I explained. "Lemme know if it hurts, got it?"

After he let out another grunt of what I assumed was agreement, I pressed lightly against each of his ribs, watching his facial expressions as I did. After what seemed like forever, I sighed and withdrew my hand. "You're lucky. There'll be bruises for sure, but nothing seems busted. You breathing okay?"

"Yeah," he muttered. Letch's speech wasn't perfect but it had improved since his initial awakening. Was that unusual? Again I was prodded with the memory of Missy and her predicament, and my eyes strayed to the rifles mounted on the wall.

_I have a chance,_ I thought. _I actually stand a chance of getting everyone out of here._

I owed them that much, after what I did.

I sat there for a while, contemplating, one hand supporting Letch's head and the other draped over his forehead for reasons beyond me. When I finally strung together the semblance of a plan, I spoke again.

"Don't move."

"Wha...?"

Carefully I rolled him towards me, onto his side. As I gently tilted his head back to keep his airway open, Letch actually opened his eyes. To my surprise, they focused on me immediately, which seemed to contradict his disoriented state.

It was the first time I'd actually gotten a good look at them. While mine had always reminded me of sea scum, his made me think of something pleasant - aquamarine. My birthstone. Kind of like the earrings -

No. I did _not_ want to go there. Especially now.

I tore my gaze away immediately, hobbling over to the wall where Letch had mounted his weapons. I selected one of the rifles, switching it onto 'safe' and dropping its magazine to examine the contents._ Loaded,_ I observed._ Good._

I re-inserted it, pushing up on it so it locked back into place and putting the bolt forward. After slinging the rifle onto my back, I grabbed the next weapon and examined its contents as I had with the first one. Pleased, I removed its magazine, emptied its contents and slipped them into my pocket, repeating this action with the next gun. If I was going protect Missy, Letch and myself, I obviously had to have ammo.

Briefly I wondered if I should remove the bayonets from the extra rifles - Missy needed to protect herself too, after all - but decided against it. I only had so many pockets, after all, and I couldn't risk weighing myself down. _Funny,_ I mused. _I spent all the time complaining about how hot and uncomfortable my uniform was and now I'd give anything to have it back. _Protected by nothing but this flimsy tank top and cargo pants, I felt almost naked. I couldn't even remember how I'd lost my knee pads...

"Well," I said brightly, "'least I still have my boots."

I didn't even _have_ to look at Letch to know that he was staring at me like I'd lost my shit. I chose to ignore him and studied the wall for a moment, taking in the various weapons and torture tools. How Letch had managed to get a hold of all these was something I didn't even_want_ to consider, but when faced with this particular situation I couldn't help but feel relieved that I had such a vast arsenal at my fingertips.

I turned back to Letch, who was staring at me with a furrowed brow. "Do you think you can walk?" I wasn't sure how I'd be able to transport him out of here if he couldn't.

_It would be so easy just to run, run and never look back..._

I shoved those traitorous thoughts to back of my mind, a place where I stored everything else that would eat away at my very sanity if I allowed it to see the light of day. (Or the darkness of the mines, in this case? Whatever.)

"Can try," he grunted. I shot one last glance at the wall once more, wondering if I could possibly take anything else with me and subsequently ruling it out before striding over to my reluctant ally. "Don't push yourself too hard," I advised, kneeling down to assist him.

"Ain't no fuckin' baby," Letch muttered under his breath, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position.

"I don't_ have_ to help you, ya know. Wouldn't kill you to show a little gratitude..." I held out the hand nearest to him, palm to palm, and let him take hold of it. It was a strain for both of us as we both rose, and Letch swayed on his feet.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Slow down, man," I warned, grabbing his shoulder in effort to steady him. Letch shot me a dirty look as I slung one of his hefty arms around my shoulders, fighting a wince as the large man leaned against me. "You fall, we're both fucked." It didn't help that I was starting to feel more light-headed myself with each passing minute.

"Yeah, yeah..." Letch looked at me, wrinkling his nose in what I took to be skepticism. "You even... know where you're goin', girl?"

"Do you?" I was being only a little sarcastic. I would have taken anyone's advice at this point if it meant tracking down the whereabouts of Missy or my friends. Some from the annoying ingrate who now accompanied me would have been particularly helpful.

The smug expression on Letch's face answered my silent prayers. I let out a sigh of both relief and exasperation.

"Fine then,_ all-knowing-one._ Lead the way."


	12. Homecoming

_**Winds of Change**_

_**By Berry's Ambitions**_

_**Chapter 11: Homecoming**_

**A/N: It's about time I updated this thing! My apologies for yet another long wait. ^^; I've been busy working on other chapter-fics (which are still works in progress) and various one-shots. On a more positive note, I finally have a clear idea on how these next several chapters are going to go, which means I'll _hopefully_ find time to update more often. That is, if exams and graduation don't get in the way... we'll have to have and see, I suppose.**

**Onto the eleventh chapter! :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own _The Hills Have Eyes_.**

* * *

"Please, Letch. _Please."_

On top of my companion's other lovely qualities, he'd also proved himself to be stubborn as fuck. Currently we were leaning against the wall, taking a break from our trek through the mines - a task which proved itself to be harder than I originally thought, considering our rapidly-deteorating physical conditions. Letch was scowling at his boots as an excuse not to look at me.

"You crazy."

"Maybe so, but we can't just leave her there!" I begged, resisting the urge to shake him by the shoulders. "God only knows what he's doing to her right now!"

When I explained to the mutant that the main priority was to rescue Missy from Hades' torture dungeon, he'd completely shut down. Letch wasn't an idiot; he could put two and two together to come up with four and realize that there was a good chance we'd run into Daddy Dearest himself.

Letch's grumpy face was eye-level with mine, now. "So? Why's that your problem?"

Although the severity of his concussion seemed to be subsiding, I wish I could say the same for his attitude. "Why is that my problem?" I shot back, rubbing my face. My skin felt hotter than usual, but I shoved the concern to the back of my mind. There were worse things than a possible fever to deal with, after all. "How is_ not_ my problem? I'd sure as hell want my team to go back for me if some douchelicker was trying to make babies with me against my will!" Letch's expression remained impassive, so I tried good ol' emotional manipulation. "You have a brother, right?"

"Two," Letch replied, eyeing me skeptically. "Where you goin' with this?"

"Wouldn't you go back for them if they needed you?" I asked, widening my eyes in emphasis. "C'mon, man! Show a bit of human compassion!"

Letch rested all his weight onto one leg, cocking one of hips outward. "One: don't play games with me," he snapped. "'Course I'd go back for them; they're family. Two: don't ask me to show what I don't got!"

"Missy might not be _my_ family, but..." I hesitated, unsure if I should reveal this tidbit of information. Missy no doubt wouldn't have wanted me too. "Letch, she's got a little boy back at home, and she's all he has." Letch raised his non-eyebrows, and I went on, "Besides, even if she didn't have a kid, it would be wrong to leave her with a sick fuck like Hades. Even you know_ that."_

Letch drew his tongue across chapped lips, a crease forming on his forehead as he mulled it over. "Look, I get it," he said finally. "I do. Warm fuzzies and all that shit." I rolled my eyes at the last part, but he didn't miss a beat. "But ya don't know what you're riskin' by doing this."

"Uh, yeah. I think I do. Life-long enslavement and all that jazz."

"Look, kid." I bristled at the term. Letch's eyes had turned hard. "I been livin' with the fucker all my life. You known him for what, five minutes? You don't have a damned clue who you're dealin' with. What he's done to girls tougher and smarter than you. _Younger_ than you."

"I'm nineteen years old," I snapped, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "I've been on my own since I graduated high school. I've been training with the military for two and a half months now. Do _not_ treat me like some sad little kid who needs to be taken care of."

His lips curled back into a snarl, and I realized I'd forgotten who'd I been talking to - and how I'd been talking to him. Had Letch not been in such a weakened state, I might have been scared. "I've been on my own my whole _fuckin'_ life," he spat. "That ain't nothin' to proud of, let me tell ya. Not only have I had to watch my back, but Cham's and Hansel's too. They are _all_ I've got, and if I lost them..." Obviously this thought caused him distress, so he went on, "You wanna know why my mama's not around? 'Cause Hades _killed_ her."

"But wasn't your mother - "

"No. She was one of us." Letch ran a hand over his head. "She was gonna take us away from him. Me an' Cham an' Hansel an'..." He stopped short, as if catching himself, before going on. "An' take us someplace safe. When Hades found out what she was up to, he snapped her neck. Like she was nothin'. Like she didn't even _matter. _I know this 'cause he _told_ me so," he added before I could ask. "Said he'd do the same thing if any of us tried to turn our backs on him. So we didn't, and we went along with all his convoluted bullshit." Letch rolled his shoulders and heaved a big sigh. "Look, I don't even know why I'm tellin' you this."

"That's what head injuries do to people," I shrugged. I knew I probably should have commented on his family situation - something that still had me really shocked - but really didn't know what to say. Even if I did, chances were Letch would have gotten pissed at me for one reason or another. "Make 'em confuzzled. You're feeling okay, right?"

"I'd be better if ya didn't have a death wish," he retorted. "We don't even know if Missy's gonna be there."

"She has to be. We know Hades would've taken her away from Chameleon by now." The very thought made me, quite literally, sick to my stomach. Suddenly I felt angry. "You do realize we women have feelings, right? That we're not just objects you can use as... as _sex toys."_ I spat the last two words out.

"Look,_ kid,_ all my life I been taught not to let warm fuzzy feelings get in the way of shit. Hades taught me that. _All_ of us. _We don't have a goddamn choice."_

"You're wrong, Letch. No matter what happens to us, we have a choice. Even when it seems that there is no option, there is _always_ something else that can be done. What happens in our lives is the result of decisions that we make." I locked eyes with him to prove my point. "I learned that the hard way."

Letch stared at me for a while, all rigged muscles and clenched fists. I stared back unflinchingly, narrowing my eyes and setting my jaw.

When he finally replied, it was through clenched teeth. "If we die tryin' to save this girl... I will kill you."

"Remember who's carrying the gun here, dude," I reminded him, trying not to look too excited or do a victory dance. "So what should we do?"

Letch smirked, but he didn't look the least bit amused. "The hell do I know. This is your stupid-ass idea."

"What happened to leading to the way?" I snapped. "Much as it pains me to say it, but I can't do this without your help!" I closed my eyes and began massaging my temples. "I feel sick and you're really not helping me."

"Sick?"

"Yeah. I think I'm dehydrated or somethin'."

"So let me get this straight. We're both half-dead and you wanna try to take down _Papa Hades? _He's been killin' people 'fore you were even a sperm in your pa's balls."_ Um, ew?_ "Not to mention he's the berserker type. If you try anything too big against him, he'll rip your shit apart."

"Then we need a plan." I gestured for him to sit down next to me, and he did, albeit reluctantly. I couldn't blame him; it probably wasn't a good idea to be crouching out in the open like this, but unless Letch knew of any hiding spots in the mines, we didn't have a whole of options. "Okay, assuming Hades is holding Missy captive... how would he do it?"

"He'd do what I did to you," Letch explained. Then he wrinkled his nose. "Or he might be feelin' a little kinky today and break out the shackles."

"Not funny!" I snapped, resisting the urge to punch him on the arm. It was only when I realize he was being dead serious that I shuddered. _"Oh_ my God. Can you at least tell me what his room looks like so I have a better idea? What's his schedule like?"

"It's not like I make a habit of visitin' there, but I can tell ya it's bigger than mine. Dirtier, too. And he just..." Letch gestured with his hands. "...leaves crap lyin' around everywhere. Weapons, stuff left over from kills, you name it. Usually carries a knife or a cleaver 'round with him 'cause he's a paranoid son of a bitch. Sometimes it's easy to sneak into his room, other times there's no way in. Depends if he's there or has anyone on guard for him."

"If Hades is so tough," I pointed out, "why does he need any guards? He doesn't seem like the type to care if he gets his hands dirty or not."

"He don't care, you're right," Letch agreed. "But like I said, he's paranoid. Thinks everyone's out to get him."

"Even you guys?"

Letch's smile was downright venomous. _"'Specially_ us guys. Ya think Hades don't have an idea how we feel 'bout him?"

"Good point." I pondered for a moment. "If he's in the room, is there any way we could lead him out? Like a distraction?"

"It's risky, but - "

_"Letch?"_

We'd been so wrapped up in our conversation that we hadn't heard anyone approach. I yelped, flattening my back against the wall, while Letch just looked up in surprise. Clearly he recognized the voice, and judging by the lack of fear in his gaze, it wasn't anyone he was trying to avoid.

On impulse, I lifted my head as well. If my heart hadn't been racing before, it definitely was now.

The mutant standing before us now looked vaguely familiar - and not because he was the spitting image of the guy crouching next to me. He was a bald mutant, even larger and taller than Letch, with the same welts and scabs. Unlike Letch, however, his only covered half his body and had a rock-like texture. While Letch's eyes reminded me of my birthstone, this man's were more like ice. Cold. Hard. Piercing.

(Ahem. Did I mention his naked pecs were staring at my face?)

Hovering behind him were none other than Amber and Napoleon. They were filthy and exhausted, but alive, and that was enough to make my day. I can't remember the last time either of them looked at me like that, as if they were actually happy to see me.

In fact, I don't remember the last time _anyone_ has looked at me like that.

"Jesus!" Napoleon gasped, rushing over to my aid.

Amber followed suit almost immediately. "Are you alright?" she asked worriedly, helping me to my feet. "What's going on?"

"I-I could ask you to same thing!" The tremor in my voice surprised the both of us, but that didn't stop the other girl from pulling me into a hug. "Where's everybody else?"

"Looking for you!" Napoleon exclaimed. Now it was his turn to hug me. "How did you even get out?"

I would have answered him had the scene taking place nearby not grabbed my attention. The new mutant was supporting Letch the exact same way I was earlier on, speaking in hush tones and darting glances in our direction. "Who's that?" I wanted to know. "Is he..."

"With us," Napoleon reassured me. "There's another one of them with Delmar and Crank." Then his eyes widened, and he turned her attention back to Amber. "Shit. We have to find them!"

"Missy's not that far. We'll get her first," Amber reminded him sharply. "Then we're leaving."

I was still trying to wrap my head around everything. Still trying to figure out the situation. "Letch and I were lookin' for her too."

"Letch?" Napoleon repeated, furrowing his brow.

"That would be my brother," the new mutant piped up. His voice wasn't anything like Letch's either. It was smoother, quieter. Less rough. "He tells me you saved his life."

I felt a little jolt, not realizing that he was speaking directly to me until now. Letch was glowering at his sibling for whatever reason, but the other man either didn't notice or simply didn't care.

"And you are?" I felt obligated to ask. It felt like a more appropriate question than _Dude, where's your shirt?_

"Chameleon."

Chameleon. Everything clicked into place at once. "You're the one who dragged Missy down here."

Something flickered in the depths of his icy eyes and disappeared just as quickly. "Yes." His tongue lingered on the S, causing Letch to snicker. The apparent Chameleon shot him a dirty look before going on. "I suppose you could I'm trying right that particular wrong."

"Which is why you're with them?" I gestured to Napoleon and Amber. I think I would've be more pissed at Chameleon if I hadn't been able to relate to his situation.

"Exactly."

A new, disturbing thought entered my mind. "You didn't, you know..." I made a circular with my thumb and forefinger and stuck my other finger in it repeatedly. "...fish in Missy's pond?"

Amber put a hand over her face, grossed out. Napoleon started sputtering. Letch began to laugh hysterically, and Chameleon's entire face now resembled a tomato. "N-no," he responded, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

"Don't worry," Letch grinned. "She grows on ya."

_"Really?"_ Chameleon asked dryly, scrunching up his nose the way Letch did whenever he was disgusted or trying to emphasize his point.

"Nope," Letch replied cheerfully. "She gets worse."

"Can we please focus on getting Missy back?" Amber snapped, reaching for the gun that was apparently strapped to her back. "Then you guys can make all the inappropriate comments you want."

"We're all the same page, right?" I questioned, glancing around the room at this new, ragtag team. "With this Hades creep and all?"

"If you know who Hades is - " Napoleon unsheathed his bayonet. " - then I think that we are." He studied me with visible concern. "You sure you're up for this?"

Now it was my turn to take hold of my rifle. "I think I owe you one, after the way I bailed on all of you earlier." I tried to sound casual, but could only imagine how guilty I must have looked.

"You don't owe us anything," he said kindly. "The only thing that matters right now is that we_ all_ get away in one piece."

"Still... I was a tool." I bit my lip, suddenly feeling awkward. Apologies had never been my strongest suit, especially while surrounded by people I barely even knew. "Especially to you, man. You didn't deserve it."

"I'm with Barbie on this one," Letch commented. "Save the emotional crap for later, alright? We have a job to do."

I was kind of grateful for Letch's intervention, so I chose to let it slide. "So what?" I frowned. "We go in there guns blazing? What happened to the distraction idea?"

"You're forgetting a very important detail," Chameleon pointed out. "Hades knows we're rebelling against him. It'll be a blood bath if he gets his hands on any one of us, human or mutant."

Cue mental alarm bells. "Wait, _what?"_

"You coulda mentioned that, I dunno, 'bout five minutes ago?" Letch growled, looking like he wanted nothing more than to shove Chameleon away. A sentiment I shared with him, of course. "What the fuck are we s'pposed to do now? This changes everything!"

Not even moments after he finished this sentence, a scream echoed throughout the mines. We all whipped around, weapons ready, and soon discovered the origin of such a ghastly noise. Two men stumbled forward, both sprawling onto the ground before us.

Taking a closer look, I felt my stomach drop with horror and recognition. These beaten, battered figures were Crank and Delmar.

* * *

**A/N: Fans of this story may also be interested in reading _The Name Game_, a Letch/girl!Stump one-shot I posted not too long ago! ;)**


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